


Forever His | Kylo Ren Assassin AU

by simpremerat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cliffhangers, Dark, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Plot, Plot Twists, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Star Wars Alternate Universe - No Force, Star Wars Alternate Universe - No Jedi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 88,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpremerat/pseuds/simpremerat
Summary: He found you in the night. Tortured you, forced every secret from your mind until you gave him what he needed to turn your world upside down. You thought it was over - but it was only the beginning. He's back, and this time it isn't information he wants.He wants you.---------------modern day assassin AU. 18+. kylo ren X reader.trigger warnings;-blood-violence-gore-torture-kidnapping-smut-nsfw-dub-con-choking- dom!Kylo/sub! Reader- stalking- sexual situations-language-mentions of abuse-mature themes-major character death*inspired by the Tormentor Mine series by Anna Zaires*originally posted to Wattpad, adding to Ao3.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. The Storm

_**TWs;** violence, home invasion, torture, drugging, sexual situations, death._

You flinched at the flash of lighting outside your window, feeling a twinge of uneasiness as thunder boomed in the distance. Rain fell in sheets, pounding against the windows, rebounding off the roof so loudly a constant, dull roar echoed through the house. 

The power had gone out hours ago with no chance of restoration in sight. The automated voicemail you received from the power company confirmed the outages had been reported, but until conditions were safe they couldn't send technicians out to work on fallen lines. According to the message over 50,000 people were affected. The group bonding experience no one asked for. 

It was on nights like these when your thoughts often found their way to Poe. In another life the living room would be filled with candles, puddles of wax forming on the hardwood floors because neither of you ever remembered to put anything underneath them. He would have distracted you, knowing how anxious storms made you. You would be hysterically laughing, limbs awkwardly intertwined as you fought to keep your balance on the Twister mat, his constant stream of dirty jokes leaving you breathless. Or angrily disputing the outrageous cost of _Park Place_ , a furious swipe across the dining room table that left a colorful array of counterfeit Monopoly bills scattering the floor and the game board digging into your back as he fucked you. Teasing, laughing at your impatience, taking your mind so far from your fears it would only occur to you hours later they ever existed. He would have held you after, stroked your hair, murmured that you still owed him $1,100. Caught your hand when you playfully swatted his shoulder, whispered he accepted _other_ forms of payment...

Sighing, you turned from the window, wondering why you tortured yourself with what ifs. The pretty picture you painted in your mind was a fantasy. A work of fiction that would never be. _Could_ never be. 

Poe was still alive, but only in the most clinical sense of the word. For a lack of a more tasteful expression, he was a vegetable. A shell. No brain activity in months. Not since the accident. But even before then, you hadn't shared a night like that in years. Carefree. Happy. The image you conjured wasn't the man you married. 

You supposed that was how you'd learned to live with his loss. You hadn't been on good terms. You hadn't even been on _decent_ terms. The neighbors probably could have attested to that. Some of the fights had been loud. Nasty. More than once one of you had stormed out. Slamming doors and speeding away from the house, trying to escape the truth you both knew but neither would admit. 

It was over.

You didn't want it to be. Poe had been your first everything. First date, first kiss, first love. When you got married straight out of college you were convinced it would be forever. How could it not be? You were both so stupidly happy other people couldn't stand to be around you. Your mom stopped dropping by for unexpected visits because neither of you had an ounce of self control and the stamina of rabbits. You cringed at your own Instagram pictures because you were _that_ couple. That unfairly perfect pair that life simply worked out for. 

Until you weren't. 

It felt vain to think it, but you weren't the one that changed. Jobs changed, you traded your beaten up Buick for a mid-sized SUV you already pictured filled with car seats, you made new friends, traded all night parties for the occasional weekend bar crawl, accepted that while you loved to sing you weren't the next Ariana Grande, you bought your first house together. A lot of things were different, but not you. You were the same person you'd always been, just a slightly more responsible version with a mortgage and a job you loved as a junior editor for a publishing company. 

But Poe? Poe became a different person, seemingly overnight. More accurately, a weekend. Travel was a normal part of his job as a freelance journalist. He went where the stories took him. Sometimes to places that you wished it didn't, not knowing if he was safe for days at a time was torture. But it was what he loved, you couldn't tell him to abandon his passion in life for your peace of mind. He'd always dreamed of writing exposes, bringing justice to the world and never having to deny the daredevil side of him that couldn't stop from flirting with danger. That weekend shouldn't have been any different than any other. You'd expected him to come home, catch you when you ran into his arms, and smile that impossibly handsome smile of his before murmuring in your ear, " _I'll tell you all about it later, right now I want you in my bed, Mrs. Dameron._ " 

But he didn't smile when he walked in the door. He didn't catch you. He didn't want to talk about the trip. Or anything else for that matter. He was somber. Angry. Something had gone wrong but he refused to tell you. He wouldn't even admit there was a problem. When you pushed him, telling him you were worried about him, he told you to get off his fucking back. 

You endured weeks of his moodiness with little comment, telling yourself he was going through something and to just be patient. Be supportive. He would snap out of it. Or at the very least explain what was wrong. But that moment never came. Things just got worse. He was withdrawn, not just from you but from everyone. He missed his parents 30th wedding anniversary party, sending you instead and refused to answer when his dad called for an explanation. 

He began drinking heavily as weeks became months. And never at bars. Insistent on staying home to drown his sorrows, you got a front row seat to his vicious self destruction. In your efforts to try and support him you stayed home, dragging him to bed, cleaning up the broken dishes after a fit of drunken rage, trying not to let his hateful words under your skin. You told yourself he was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying. It would be better in the morning. 

But the few things he remembered the next day were never apologized for. Not even once. 

He got worse, and you got resentful. Soon your words were nearly as toxic as his. You were tired. Heartbroken. You were the only one fighting for your marriage and you'd had enough. You were tired of making excuses to your families. Canceling plans - always last minute - with your friends. Begging him to see a therapist with you. Using vacation time from work to take care of him as he slowly drank himself to death. The finances falling entirely on your shoulders because he couldn't drag himself away from the bottle long enough to write a story. 

You were tired of feeling unloved.

And then that night came. Poe had been drinking, as always. You gave him an ultimatum; booze, or you. 

The bottle he'd been holding was left abandoned on the table as he closed the distance between you. A whisper of hope, a light after months in the darkness sprang up in your chest. You'd been so ready to wrap your arms around him, to tell him you would get him through it. That you'd both be okay. 

But when there were only mere inches separating you and he inclined his head to meet you gaze, you realized there was absolutely nothing but loathing in his eyes. Instead of choosing you, or promising to do better, he smiled at you. A toothless, gargoyle of a face that didn't belong to your Poe. 

" _It's about time you naïve, pathetic, little **bitch**_."

Something broke inside you that night. His words ripped you open, leaving you raw and exposed like a nerve. Your lungs refused to draw breath. Your knees gave way and you collapsed to the floors he'd made love to you on the night you moved in to the house because your furniture still hadn't arrived. A piece of you _died_ while he simply grabbed his keys and left. 

That was the last time you ever saw him conscious. 

The car accident miraculously didn't claim any lives, Poe's included. His car was found in a ditch only a few miles from your house hours later. There weren't any witnesses or traffic cameras but considering his blood-alcohol level no other alternative to a self inflicted accident was even on the table. 

Sometimes, even though you were plagued with sickening guilt every time you indulged in the thought, you thought it would have been better if he'd died that night. Not better, but easier. Certainly for his parents, who still clung to the hope he would wake up some day even though a dozen different doctors all confirmed he wouldn't. Certainly for your friends who never knew what do to or how they should talk about Poe. And definitely for you, the widow without a grave to visit and a million unresolved feelings to carry with you until death did you part. 

The crowning finish to the whole ugly story was that after abandoning his career, Poe still ended up on the radar of a pissed off arms dealer he'd been working to expose. That weekend that signaled the beginning of the end had apparently been more dangerous than even you'd realized. The same day Poe was brought to the hospital and pronounced brain dead two federal agents showed up, telling you that they needed to put him in protective custody. 

It seemed ridiculous to you; who would be coming after a man who was just a shell of who he had been? No matter what he'd intended to write it would never be published now. But they reminded you that the lethal criminal Poe went after wouldn't just accept the hope that he would never regain consciousness. They would kill him to tie off lose ends and set an example. 

So you agreed. Poe was moved. You, and only you, were allowed infrequent visits that required being chauffeured and blindfolded. The agents claimed it was all for safety precautions. The only counter offer was that you join him in protective custody. 

Maybe you were selfish for declining, but you just couldn't do it. You couldn't give up your life, your job, your family, and friends to sit by Poe's bed. Not only because you'd accepted he was gone, but doing so would have been a lie. Your marriage was over. Your place was no longer by his side. You knew his parents were hurt by your attitude, but they had no idea what the last several months had been like. 

They didn't know the hateful look in Poe's eyes the night he left. 

Moving on was far from simple. It was like being left continually in limbo, and nights like these when you were left alone with your thoughts, it made you wonder how much longer you could do this before losing your mind.

**********

With the storm still raging on outside and a continued lack of power, your options for the evening were severely limited. In an effort to distract yourself from your tangled thoughts, you settled on a glass of wine, a semi-promising murder/thriller you were reviewing for your boss to see if it was worth investing in, and a flashlight propped between your shoulder cheek like the kind of landline phone people under the age of 40 used anymore. 

After changing into a comfortable white open sided tank top thrown over a black sports bra and leggings you curled up on the chaise lounge of the sectional in the living room, draping a fuzzy throw blanket over your lap before getting comfortable. You were off the clock, but you'd made a habit of bringing work home with you for precisely moments like this when you needed to focus on something other than your over complicated reality. 

You had almost sunk into the story enough to tune out the howling wind outside when you heard a noise. Brows pulling together you set the book down and grabbed the flashlight from your shoulder. Granted the storm had caused a litany of strange sounds all night, but there was something different about this. 

Tossing the throw blanket aside you rose slowly from the couch, shining the flashlight around the living room. Nothing out of place. Hesitantly, you made your way closer to the foyer. You shuddered, feeling a chill run up your spine. Undoubtedly it was just the storm getting to you again, your imagination playing tricks on you. 

Reaching the foyer you peered through the small pane of glass beside the front door, shining the flashlight out into the darkness. Your gaze roamed over the covered porch and down the brick steps...both breathing a sigh of relief and mentally cursing yourself for not preparing for the storm. One of the planters by the steps had fallen over. The ceramic pot was shattered across the walkway, the soil and destroyed flowers already washing away with the rain. 

Exhaling the breath you'd been holding for the better part of two minutes you took a step backwards, already thinking about polishing off that glass of wine when you collided with a solid wall of muscle. 

Before you could blink there was a gloved hand clamping over your mouth, smothering your instinctive scream. A hand so large it was easily nearly the size of your face, resting close enough to your nose it was difficult to breathe. The flashlight fell from your hands, clattered loudly to the floor and rolling away. Having lost your only feasible weapon you tried fighting off your attacker, attempting to twist out of their hold. 

Until you felt something cold and sharp resting at your throat. 

You froze, the fear building in your chest turning to full blown panic. Icy terror gripped you, your muscles seizing as you forced yourself to remain perfectly still. 

"Not a sound." A voice growled behind you. Distinctly male. At least a head taller than you. The hand over your mouth was brutally tight, bruising. The knife at your throat so sharp you could feel the cutting edge of the blade even when it barely ghosted against your skin. Not wanting to move your head, you gave a muffled sound of consent, desperate to follow his orders...at least until you stood a chance of escaping. "Very good," he murmured in mock congratulations, your startled gasp of pain stifled by his hand when he pressed the knife to your neck with just enough force to leave a shallow cut. You didn't feel blood, but the threat was there. Just a bit more pressure and your life would be over. "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth and you're not going to scream. Right?" 

You nodded immediately as much as his grip would allow, your lungs now screaming for the air his hand was almost entirely depriving you of. After another prolonged moment his hand slowly slid away from your mouth, allowing you to gratefully suck in a lungful of air. 

Relief that was quickly dashed away as his arm snaked around your torso, an iron band shackling you to him. Careless of your yelp of surprise, he pulled you effortlessly off your feet. He wove through the house purposefully, boot clad feet surprisingly quiet. The pit in your stomach grew when you realized he clearly knew his way around your house. 

Dragging you into the darkened kitchen he returned you to your feet in front of the sink. He pressed you into the edge of the counter, keeping you pinned securely between it and his massive frame. The arm around your waist moved to lock across your shoulders. Those gloved fingers squeezed your shoulder roughly, demanding your full attention, "Now, let's talk about your husband." 

The way he said 'husband' made it sound like a vile word, dripping with disdain. You doubted sincerely he so adamantly opposed to matrimony...this had to be about Poe himself. Your lips trembled as you tried to keep your wits about you. "My husband?" you repeated carefully. Was this what the agents had warned you about? The day when the faceless men Poe had angered would strike back? 

"Yes," his head dipped down, your skin pebbling with goosebumps when you felt his lips at your ear, "I need you to tell me where he is." The knife remained out of sight, but the threat your life felt as tangible as ever. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you gave a minute shake of your head. You couldn't. Granted you didn't actually know the exact location of the facility where Poe was, but you'd been able to piece together enough over the few trips you'd taken you could pinpoint a decent theory. But not for this man. There was only one reason you could think of that he wanted that location, and you wouldn't be the one to sign Poe's death warrant. 

Your marriage might be over, he might have hurt you more than you ever thought possible, but for love of the man you promised to honor you couldn't betray him. Not even for your own life.

"I don't know where he is," you managed to squeak out, your voice shaking nearly as badly as your hands clutching the kitchen counter were. Knuckles turning white with your tightened grip. 

The sigh in your ear was more ominous than a scream would have been. His other arm appeared in front of you, brandishing the knife. A flash of lighting outside the window in front you briefly illuminated the blade...and the man behind you in the reflection of the glass. It was dark, too difficult to make out much. But you'd caught thick, jet black hair, intense dark honey eyes, a mouth under different circumstances you would have described as inexplicably sensual. 

"I don't believe you," he murmured, again sounding regretful as he drew the knife closer to you. Rather than to your throat this time he brought it to your abdomen, the point of the blade catching the open side of your tank top. You both watched the way he toyed with the thin fabric; he with a smirk in his voice, you trembling with renewed terror, "I admire your loyalty, but it's a waste. Tell me what I need and you can walk away from this alive." This time there was no hand to smother your terrified gasp as he brought the knife through the side of your shirt, tearing the fabric from your side to your bellybutton as if to remind you how easy it would be to take your life, "Or you can be carried out in a body bag on the morning news if you'd prefer." 

"I swear I don't know where he is! I haven't for months, he was-"

"Placed in protective custody by the FBI?" He finished for you, tone as deceptively soft as ever. "Stop fucking around with me. You've been to visit. You know more than you're telling me." You could hear the frustration beginning to seep into his voice. Did he really think you would just give up your husband like that? He would have no way of knowing you'd been estranged, what reason would he have to think fear would make you cooperate so easily? 

Your silence must have been the spark that lit the fire. In an instant you heard the clatter of the knife hitting the tile floor. His free hand looped under your knees, his other arm shifting around your back, lifting you easily off the ground and dropping you on to the kitchen counter, back first. Your head connected painfully with the rim of the porcelain basin, a pained cry breaking from from your lips. He hovered over you, looking a cross between an avenging angel and Death itself. 

Reaching into his back pocket he produced a gleaming pair of handcuffs. Meeting your terrified gaze, he rose a dark brow at you, "Just remember, I gave you the chance to make this easier on yourself." You cried out as he roughly turned you on your side, facing away from him. The sensation of cold metal locking around your wrists left your heart thundering dangerously loud in your ears. He flipped you back over with just as much ease, forcing you to rest uncomfortably on your cuffed wrists. "Look at me." 

As his hand came to lightly grip your throat - not squeezing, yet - you reluctantly obeyed, dragging your gaze from the ceiling you'd been focusing on with a sort of terrified concentration to his. Able to see him better, you realized his eyes were lighter than you thought, a mix of green and golden hues. His sharp jawline was patched with dark stubble. He had a prominent nose, an oddly suiting feature. His thumb rubbed small circles against your neck, but the gesture was devoid of any comfort. As he leaned closer to you you felt your breath hitch in your throat. 

"You know I can take whatever I want. Stop fighting." But he didn't wait for your refusal this time. He didn't need it. He could see the desperation and defiance in your eyes. You weren't ready yet. 

You watched him reach into his back pocket again, this time pulling out a non-descript black cloth. It falls over your eyes a moment later, covering your face. Your confusion lasts only a moment before he jerked you forward with his grip on your throat so that your head hovered over the sink. The hand on your throat slid away, instead tangling in your hair, wrapping it around his first. A sense of dread and panic surged through you when you realized what he intended to do.

The sound of the faucet turning on affirmed your fears. You struggled against him as water began to sink into the fibers of the cloth over your face, the fabric growing heavier. Within a matter of seconds water fills your mouth. Your nose. Suffocating you. Your lungs began to seize up as you gagged against the water slowly drowning you. He spoke but you couldn't hear him, too panicked to do anything but fight uselessly against his grip, your legs flailing on the counter but finding no target. 

The turn of the faucet sounded again, this time shutting the water off. He pulled the cloth from your face, watching impassively as you coughed and gasped for breath. The water in your eyes blurred your vision, sobs building in your throat, "Please stop!" you choked out, reduced to beginning in only a matter of seconds. But you couldn't stand that feeling, the terror of drowning, your lungs screaming for oxygen. 

But he didn't stop. After only a few seconds of relief he slapped the cloth over your face again, silencing your screams. The water turned on, cascading down your mouth and nose again. Your eyes burned, your lungs raw from screaming, from fighting. Your resolve to die for Poe was crumbling. 

Just when you were sure he was going to let you die this time the water ceased and the cloth was ripped away again. But this time you couldn't catch your breath. Sobs racked your body as you desperately tried to pull air into your lungs, a coughing fit making your chest burn with exhaustion. You found his eyes in the dim light, your voice raw when you finally managed to speak, "Stop! Please just stop, I'm begging you!" 

The hand not twisted around your hair appeared, tenderly wiping away the tears streaking down your cheeks. Maybe it was the desperation talking, but you thought you saw a glimmer of pity - maybe even regret - in his eyes, "Tell me where he is and I'll stop." he promised. 

"I ...I.." you stammered, so torn between fighting for your life and sparing Poe's you couldn't form a coherent thought. Seeing the indecision in your expression, he sighed in frustration before the cloth dropped on to your face _again_ , "No! Ple-"

It was too much this time. There was no getting used to the sensation of drowning. No escape from the bone chilling terror coursing through your veins. You'd never wished to black out before, but you welcomed it now. Anything to make the torment stop. 

But once again the water shut off, the cloth sliding away and hitting the bottom of the sink below you. Your body was growing weaker, exhausted with fighting. Your neck ached from the awkward position. Your hands had gone numb from having your weight rest on them. Your cries had become uncontrolled sobs. You couldn't see him through the blur of water and tears but you continued to beg, "Please, no more...."

To your surprise the torture didn't continue. Instead he pulled you up into a sitting position. He released your hair and his arm settled around you, your head resting weakly against his shoulder. He stroked the top of your head tenderly, "Ssshh, it's alright." You felt him shift slightly before his lips touched your forehead, "We're going to try something a little different." he breathed against your skin...just before you felt a sharp pinch in your neck. You looked up in shock...his face was the last thing you saw before your world went dark.

*********

Consciousness was slow to return to you. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Even the simple act of prying your tired eyes open proved to be laborious. 

As your senses came back to life, the first thing you realized was how comfortable you were. The hard surface of the kitchen counter had vanished, replaced instead with softness and warmth. Your limbs felt heavy, impossible to move, but as you tried to shift you realized there was a pair of arms wrapped around you. The smell of his cologne washed over you, something clean and sharp mixed something earthy, like leather. The feel of his thermal shirt was soft until you connected the dots that you could feel it so acutely because your tank top was gone. 

Alarm began to fight its way through your sluggish brain. You needed to move. To fight. This wasn't safe. But...he wasn't hurting you. The water was gone, the cuffs too. When you wiggled your bare toes you found the edge of the blanket that you were wrapped in. When you finally managed to force your heavy eyelids open, you were looking into the lit fireplace. He must have turned the gas logs on. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living." 

His voice sounded somewhat far away, but you managed to turn your head...piecing together more of the puzzle. You were laying against his chest, between his legs. His muscular thighs against yours. His arms were folded around you, cradling you, but also keeping you in place. You couldn't move a muscle unless he allowed it. You flinched at the kiss he placed against the top of your head. "Your shirt was soaking wet," he explained, undoubtedly having felt your tenseness. Not that his rationale made you feel any better. Your shirt was only wet because he'd waterboarded you. 

Yet, even knowing how terrified you should be, or at the very least angry, you couldn't touch those emotions. It felt as though you were stuck in a haze. A side effect of whatever he'd injected you with, you guessed. But once again you couldn't summon the appropriate reaction to the knowledge that he could have given you _anything_. Instead, it was difficult to focus on anything but how tired you were. How comfortable you were. How warm and strong his arms felt around you...

No. You weren't going there. 

"Just relax, (Y/N)." He murmured. His voice rumbled in his chest. It was such a nice voice. You hadn't noticed before. Smooth. Rich. It was a shame it belonged to a man who had almost killed you. Wanted to kill your husband. A giggle bubbled up, breaking from your lips. It was all the sudden inexplicably funny that you were cuddling with someone who'd held a knife to your throat that same night. "Try to focus." 

His fingers, no longer gloved, caught your chin between two long, calloused fingers. Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you thought you saw a trace of something softer in his eyes than before. Your eyes still felt so heavy. Much as you wanted to explore the exquisite lines of his handsome face, the crackling of the fire was lulling you back to sleep. "Ah, ah, ah." He chided gently, squeezing your jaw just enough to catch your attention again, "You can sleep once you tell me where Poe is." 

Poe. Such a funny name. Thankfully for him he'd always been too attractive and charismatic for anyone to make fun of him. "You know that's just a nickname. His real name is Porter. Did you know that? Most people don't know." you babbled, having no clue why you couldn't seem to shut up. Even high as a kite you knew you were saying too much. 

"I don't need his name, I need to know where he is." He reminded you patiently, sitting up a little straighter against the couch cushions and pulling you with him. You couldn't stop yourself from pouting; you were comfortable. He chuckled, a genuine, melodic sound. "Be a good girl and tell me and I'll let you sleep." 

"I wasn't lying before, I really don't know where he is. Not _exactly_. Even the wife doesn't get specifics. But I guess it kind of figures. I didn't really know him. I thought I did. I was in love with him. Everyone was in love with him. He was _Poe_. But then we wasn't anymore. I lost him. You lost him. He's gone. Really. There's some fancy bullshit terminology but he's just...gone. A shell. Or maybe a husk. Corn's a vegetable, right? I heard one of the nurses call him that in the hallway at the hospital. A _vegetable_. I married a carrot." There was no stopping your ramblings. Even you didn't know half of what was coming out of your mouth, yet it made you unbearably sad. Sad to sum up the most traumatic moments of your life into a careless little package. 

You hadn't even realized you were crying until his thumb wiped a tear off your cheek. But rather than brush his hand off, he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it off. The action should have disgusted you, but instead you found yourself fascinated with his mouth. His full lips. When he spoke you could scarcely focus, "No one really knew him. That's why he was good at his job. Tell me about where he is? Agents take you to visit him, right?" 

"More like temporarily kidnap me." you answered thoughtfully, thinking of all the hoops they'd made you jump through to see the husband who wasn't really your husband so you could sit by his bed and pretend to believe your visits did either of you any good, "It's always different times, different days. They cancel a lot. I have to wear a blindfold when they pick me up. It takes about an hour to get there. Have you ever worn a blindfold for an hour?" You questioned him, he shook his head silently so you went on, "It sucks. But I'm supposed to go see him. His parents need me to. I talk about them a lot when I sit with him. He wouldn't want to hear about my life. He hated me. I don't know why, but he did." 

Something that looked suspiciously like anger flashed in his eyes. His free hand stroked your bare arm, his nails sending shivers across your skin like a current, "I doubt that. Tell me about where they take you. Is it in a city? Large or small?"

"More like a town, it doesn't seem very big and there's never much traffic. The facility is nice but kind of small. In a brick building across the street from a bank. The one with the ugly green logo?" What was it called? You should know. You thought about how much you hated that logo every time you saw it. Why didn't someone just march in there and demand it be redone? "What did you give me before?" You suddenly remembered to ask. Might as well know if it was going to kill you.

You'd clearly pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced down at your question as if he'd forgotten you were there. "Something with a long and complicated name I don't care to try and pronounce. It'll wear off in a few hours." 

Appeased with his answer, you dropped your head back to his chest when he released your chin. You noticed again how large his hands were. The one now resting on your thigh could probably circle your leg. 

Feeling him shifting behind you, as if he were going to get up, you glanced up at him in confusion, "What are you doing?"

Again he seemed surprised, but he still froze, "I'm leaving. I have what I need. You need to get some rest." There was an implication in his tone, a secret you didn't know. But you didn't care about that at the moment. You just wanted him to stay. 

"You're leaving me?" You asked quietly, your tone plaintive. Some distant part of you knew this wrong, wanting to stay wrapped in the arms of your attacker. The man trying to find your husband. But somehow the thought of being alone was so much more crushing. You were so tired of being alone. 

He paused for another long moment before getting up, shifting you off of his chest to recline against the cushions instead. He grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it under your head. His thumb traced over your quivering lower lip, "You don't want me here, sweet girl. You'd regret it in the morning." 

Would you? You weren't sure. You weren't sure of _anything_. Your emotions were all over the place, your earlier terror mixing with the unbearable sadness you felt now. A headache was forming behind your eyes and more than anything you still wanted to sleep. But you still wanted him to stay. "Please don't go." you whispered, fingers twitching. You wanted to reach for him, but your arm was too heavy to move. 

Those warm dark honey eyes studied you for a long moment. Emotions you had no name for crossing his expression. You felt his temptation to take you up on your offer, but seemed to think better of it. He cursed under his breath. You missed it, but you saw the frustration tense his shoulders. He reached into his back pocket again, producing a small syringe.

Sitting down on the edge of the couch next to you, he shifted your hair away from your neck before you felt a familiar pinch. You felt his hand petting your hair as your eyes drifted closed again, "Sleep well, love." 

**********

The sound of your phone ringing shrilly woke you. You irritably reached for your nightstand, where you always left your phone, but your hand met nothing but thin air. Further frustrated by your lack of success, you pried your eyes open...only to find yourself in the living room rather than your bedroom. Your wine from the night before still sat on the coffee table, the novel you'd been reading through abandoned further down the couch. 

Shrugging off your confusion for the time being, you sat up and snatched your phone off the coffee table. The battery was nearly dead thanks to a charge-free night. Glancing at the screen you felt a predictable wave of dread. Agent West. Otherwise known as the one who managed most of Poe's arrangements. He was always the one to call you, out of the blue just like this, to arrange visits. 

Sighing, you tapped the screen to answer the call, knowing if you didn't pick up he would just dial right back, "Hi Agent West."

"Mrs. Dameron." His tone made you pause. Not that he was a particularly buoyant man, but he was friendly enough. You'd established months ago that he should call you by your name. Both because you felt semi-comfortable with him, and because it helped to ease some of the awkwardness you felt keeping up the charade visits. He never called you by your married name, nor did he usually sound so somber.

"I'm afraid I'm calling with some...disturbing news. I hate to do this over the phone, under normal circumstances I would have come to you, but we can't take any chances right now. I'm so sorry to tell you this, but...Poe is dead. He was murdered early this morning along with several guards and two agents."

Agent West continued on, sharing more of the grisly details, but you didn't hear him. Your phone slipped from your shaking hand, clattering on the floor. 

You felt sick to your stomach as the memories from the night before came flooding back to you. The man who broke in, the knife at your throat, the waterboarding...the drugs. You wanted to blame it on whatever he'd injected you with, on almost dying...but did any of that even matter?

Poe was dead. And you'd led his murderer straight to him. 

*****************

(a/n)

Please like, vote and comment and let me know what you think? This is a story I've been toying with for quite a while, I absolutely adore the 'Tormentor Mine' series by Anna Zaires, which this fic is heavily inspired by.

Oh the things I have planned for this story...

Note; this story was originally and still is posted to Wattpad. Due to the recent purchase of the app which may lead to certain stories being removed I am adding to Ao3 to be safe, and will now be posting updates to both sites.


	2. Guilt

**_TWs;_** _mentions of rape, sexual situations, mentions and depictions of murder, violence, stalking._

The last several hours had passed in a blur of activity. When you finally managed to retrieve your cell phone from the living room floor you told Agent West about the man who'd broken in. You wanted to tell him everything, you wanted to confess every last painful detail to someone. The guilt was already eating you alive. But he didn't let you finish. Only a few words in he cut you off, telling you that he and another agent would be coming to your house to get your statement. It sounded simple enough, all you would have to do is wait. 

Wrong. 

Not only did the two agents show up an hour before you expected them, they brought a proverbial SWAT team with them. Crime scene investigators, other agents, the local police, an ambulance. When you answered the door you thought at first the crowd and sea of flashing lights were gathered at your neighbors' home...but Agent West's appearance on your porch steps told you otherwise. 

You were whisked away almost immediately. Your objections fell on deaf ears; it was protocol that the 'victim' receive a full psychical evaluation after something like this happened. _Something like this_. That was the phrase West used. As if it was common enough to have a category of its own. Maybe it was. You didn't want to know. 

Leaving your house in the hands of CSI and the FBI's finest, Agent West and his counterpart Agent Dommer - apparently she'd been roped in as his backup for your comfort - drove you to the local hospital. Neither of them spoke a word to you on the ride over, instead focusing on fielding the massive number of calls and texts that poured in over the twenty minute trip. You preferred it that way, the idea of small talk and shallow reassurances made you feel even worse. 

West dropped you and Dommer off at one of the visitors entrances, where two women wearing identical blue scrubs met you and escorted you to a private room on the third floor. Apparently one of the few benefits of being at the epitome of an FBI investigation was skipping the never ending ER waitlist. 

After going through a general exam and taking a blood sample the doctor whose name you'd already forgotten broached the subject a rape kit. Up until that point you'd been operating on autopilot. Not speaking, not thinking, just following instructions. You'd heard the words 'shock' and 'traumatized' muttered between the medical staff and Agent Dommer who stood awkwardly at in the corner of the room, but you couldn't bring yourself to process them. 

How did you have any right to be treated like a victim when you'd been the vehicle for your husband's murder? 

But this caught your attention. Your immediate protest that the man who'd broken into your house hadn't violated you - at least not in that way - but they gently reminded you that thanks to the drugs you were missing hours of time when you'd been completely defenseless. There was no way to tell either if whatever he'd injected you with had tampered with your memories. 

Trying to ignore your growing nausea you let them proceed, wishing there was some way to remain in that drug-induced fog a little longer.

**************

"The good news is the cocktail you were given while extremely potent, was non-lethal. The residual nausea and lethargy should wear off within the day." Dr. Matthews - she'd kindly reminded you of her name post-exam - explained as she took a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed you were lying in. After a dizzy spell they'd insisted you lay down for at least a few minutes. The nurse who'd been assisting Dr. Matthews had already left, but Agent Dommer remained in the room. She stood on the opposite side the bed, her expression shifting between pity and anger as the doctor shared the results your exam. 

Though you had no memory of your attacker doing anything aside from torturing you - and strangely holding you on the couch after he'd drugged you - it was still a tidal wave of relief to have confirmation there were no signs of sexual trauma. And aside from some bruising on your wrists and around your torso, and the shallow cut on your neck you weren't otherwise harmed. Physically, anyway. The post-traumatic fear, grief, and guilt were tearing you apart just fine without the aid of bodily harm. 

You'd already told them both about revealing what you knew of Poe's location to the man. How you hadn't been able to stop yourself from talking. How you'd desperately clung on to your attacker, begging him to stay. You were so confused and disgusted by your own actions. Even though you felt a renewed rush of shame to say the words out loud, you couldn't rein them in. 

"Mrs. Dameron," Dr. Matthews interrupted your confession, her expression full of empathy. She squeezed your arm comfortingly, "you were given a concentrated dose of sodium thiopental, which is a barbiturate anesthetic that was previously used to induce anesthesia...but it's also the closest thing to a truth serum that exists today. It lowers inhibitions and typically compels the recipient to reveal much more information than they would normally. Anyone else in your position would have done the same. It's not your fault, and not your guilt to bare."

You weren't sure how to process the information being given to you. This wasn't the sort of thing that happened to ordinary people. You weren't a spy or some secret agent; you were a book editor. Even considering Poe's line of work, how could you possibly have been relevant enough to warrant this kind of attack? 

It ended up being Agent Dommer who broke the silence, "We believe we know the identity of the man who attacked you. And believe me when I say that he has broken far more hardened people. Don't beat yourself up over this. We were surprised he didn't use more violent means. You're the only of his victims left breathing." 

Her revelations weren't helping your unsettled stomach. Bile churned inside you as you thought of how the night could have ended. You had no trouble believing he was as violent as Dommer claimed; you'd gotten a front row seat. "He threatened me with a knife and waterboarded me. I wouldn't give him what he wanted and...that's when he drugged me." you admitted quietly, your gaze purposefully focused on the wall in front of you. You couldn't stand the pity in both their eyes. 

"You were very brave, (Y/N). Nothing to be ashamed of." Dr. Matthews concluded quietly. 

"Did Poe...?" You turned to Agent Dommer, unsure of how to ask the question. You knew he was gone, and despite their reassurances you wouldn't be convinced you were blameless in this nightmare. This man was ruthless. You hadn't even been his target and he'd been willing to kill you. When you pointed in Poe's direction, you had no idea what fate met him.

"Suffer?" Agent Dommer guessed, immediately shaking her head when you nodded, "He was shot in the head, the ME confirmed he wouldn't have felt a thing. The clinic staff were the same, as were the agents and guards." 

There was little relief to be found in knowing they didn't suffer. There were still 9 people dead in aa single night. Would they still be alive if the drugs hadn't so helpfully loosened your lips? You tried not to think of the families that would be mourning at the news.

Families.

You closed your eyes briefly, thinking of Poe's parents. How devastated they would be. Unlike you, they had never come to any acceptance over his loss. They didn't grieve when you did. This would be like losing him all over again. The guilt swirling through you felt like it was choking the air from your lungs. Aside from the events of the night before...you'd been keeping so many secrets. They didn't know about the drinking, about the fights, about your desire to never step in that facility again to pretend to be the loyal wife. 

Swallowing thickly, you directed your next question to Dommer again, "Poe's parents, do they know?" 

The pained look in Dommer's eyes told you the answer. "Yes. We sent two agents to deliver the news this morning. They've been contacting us non-stop this morning to see you." Noting your alarmed expression, she gave you a reassuring look, "You should know they don't blame you. They're just worried about your health. Your parents are eager to see you too. They've been calling Agent West every few minutes. When you're ready we can take you to their house. CSI is done at your place but we weren't sure you'd want to go back there." 

Up until now the idea of getting out of the cold, sterile hospital environment was a welcome one. But the thought of going back to the home you shared with Poe, the place where you'd nearly been killed and confessed everything needed to take his life left your head pounding. You couldn't do it. 

"Yes, thank you." you managed to croak out. Trying to maintain at least some composure, you looked back to Dr. Matthews who had already risen from her seat, "Am I free to go?" 

"Yes, but take it easy for a couple of days, okay? You've been through a lot. I would also advise that you begin seeing a therapist. If you'd like a recommendation I'd be happy to give you one." You knew she was just trying to be helpful, but you weren't interested in sitting in a stranger's office and rehashing the last twelve hours. You would have done anything to forget them.

You took the slip of paper she handed you without comment, knowing you would probably end up throwing it in the trash later. Once the paperwork was signed you were finally allowed to leave, following Dommer back to the car where Agent West sat waiting. 

*************

"If you think you know who did this, why hasn't he been caught yet?" 

Your bluntness surprised even you, but you needed to know. You sat in the back of their non-descript sedan again, on the way to your parents house. You'd already texted them that you were on the way. You needed to appease them somehow; when you'd gotten your belongings back you had more than 50 missed calls and texts. Obviously the news had broken over Poe's death and your attack. 

Agent Dommer had opted to sit in the backseat with you. Her dark eyes were guarded when she met your gaze. She was probably only a few years older than you; you wondered how many times she'd faced that question in her career. 

"We're not talking about some run of the mill thug, Mrs. Dameron. He's lethal. Wanted internationally. Most of the information on him is classified, even we don't know the half of his crimes. And unfortunately there's not much that we can tell you other than there are countless resources working to apprehend him." You could sense West's discomfort from the front seat. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. 

Knowing that you'd somehow survived a brush with such a deadly man was about as much of a comfort as her lack of information. What you were really hearing was that you just the latest in a long line of victims who'd yet to see justice. "It sounds to me like this guy has been wanted for quite a while. If you can't find him then how do you know he's not going to come back and finish what he started?" The question only made you feel worse. Were you still in danger? And what about your parents? Friends? Was anyone close to you now a target?

"We have no reason to believe you're in any danger; he got what he wanted and left you alive. If he'd wanted to kill you he would have. I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, but it's the truth. He's not coming back. If if would make you feel better we can look into relocating you, but we don't believe you're in any danger." Agent West explained, meeting your eyes briefly in the rearview mirror before his flashed back to the road. He sounded confident, but you weren't sure whether or not to believe him. 

If the FBI hadn't been able to get their hands on this guy, did they really know him that well?

"We're going to catch him, (Y/N). He's going to be brought to justice for what he did to you and your husband." Dommer said quietly, her hands clenching in her lap. You wondered how long the two of them had been working on the case. You got the sense this had become personal to them. 

Whether that would mean anything in the end remained to be seen.

**********

 **(** Kylo **)**

"Poe Dameron was so many things to so many people. A coworker, a friend, a hell of a journalist, a drinking buddy...an uncle, a brother, a son, and a husband. We lost much of him last year after the accident, but the hope that one day he'd come back had been a comfort. Now that hope has been stolen, and we know we'll never see his smile, or hear him cuss like a sailor every time the Jets lose." 

The man at the podium laughed sadly at his own joke, his expression crumbling soon thereafter. Another man joined him, patting his back in comfort before leading him away. If his research was correct, it was Daxton Dameron, Poe's older brother. They were similar in appearance, dark curly hair, tanned skin, same height and build. The older brother was a hair leaner, his sideburns salt and peppered. But the resemblance was close enough to make his blood boil. Logically he knew Poe was dead - he was the one who fired the bullet into his skull - but he doubted there would be a day when his most recent kill didn't leave him feeling _feral_. 

Hidden amongst the crowd of what he estimated was more than 300 people, he blended in seamlessly with the black-clothed crowd of mourners. The two federal agents in attendance - for safety precautions, he'd seen the transcripts thanks to his hackers from the latest debriefing, the feds didn't expect him to return to the area - were on the other side of the grave site, bored and painfully uncomfortable. 

The crowd was composed of tears, red-rimmed eyes, and grief that was tangible in the air itself. Research had told him Dameron was well liked, the home town hero type, but he hadn't imagined it was to this extent. Especially since he'd been in a vegetative state for so long, and before that a recluse for months while he drank himself to death on a potent cocktail of guilt and self pity. It must have been years since at least a fraction of the crowd had laid eyes on him. 

It was both baffling and infuriating that so many people turned up to honor a **lie**. 

He knew he should let it go. Dameron was dead. What he'd set out to do had been done. What did it matter if his loved ones wanted to stand around his grave and tell a few stories? 

But he already knew the answer to that question. He didn't give a shit what any of these people or thought. None of them mattered...except you. You were the reason why he'd come. Why he was risking exposure. Why he was attending the funeral of a man he'd unhesitatingly killed. He _needed_ to see you again. 

When Vicrul had told him earlier that afternoon that he was being reckless and stupid, he couldn't exactly disagree. Remaining in town in the first place had been a risk they didn't need to take. They'd never hung around like this after a job. The jet was always fueled and in the air before the body was cold. But not this time. After he'd dealt with Dameron and the unfortunate staff who'd tried to stop him, instead of heading towards the airstrip he'd made arrangements to stay at one of his safehouses a little over an hour and a half away from you. Admittedly he'd wanted to go back and check on you after giving you a tranquilizer, but knowing your home would be one of the first places the feds searched after discovering the clinic massacre, he kept driving until he reached the safehouse. 

He'd fed the Knights a load of bullshit about wanting to stay close for a few days to see who would be flushed out after Dameron's body was found - after all, he was only one name on a very long list of people who would be snuffed out - but they'd seen through him. Wisely chose not to do more than whine a little, but he could tell they questioned the wisdom of his decision. Not that he cared; they weren't a democracy.

As he watched you make your way towards the podium he was reminded of his motivations. You stepped carefully across the artificial green rug that had been rolled out over the damp earth underneath. The storms had finally died off a few days ago, but strong winds remained. The breeze shifted the skirt of your black knee length dress as you walked. 

When you turned to face the crowd he was struck again by your beauty. Even with tears shining on your cheeks and your skin paler than the last time he'd seen you it wasn't an exaggeration to say you were easily one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. Something far easier to appreciate when he wasn't holding your head under water. 

It wasn't lost on him, the sheer _wrongness_ of showing up at his victim's funeral and lusting after his wife - the wife that he'd threatened and tortured at that - but he was beyond the morals that would have made him desert the crowd and leave them to the grief. It had been beaten out of him long before he was old enough to wield the knife he'd held to your throat. 

To be fair it wasn't just your body or beauty that had him violating every rule he'd made for himself - it certainly helped, but beauty could always be bought, it alone never would be worth his freedom - it was _you_. 

You'd caught him off guard. Taken him so much by surprise he was still puzzling over the enigma that was you days later. Before he'd broken in he'd pegged you as an open and shut case. You weren't the first wife he'd interrogated to get to the husband, and every last one of them were far more seasoned with violence. Getting you to break shouldn't have been anymore complicated than a few whispered threats and shallow cuts. 

But you didn't break. You allowed yourself tears and pleas, maybe even a moment of indecision when you were forced to question if you were actually _willing_ to give up your life for Dameron. He'd found the phrase 'I'd die for you' to nothing more than smoke and mirrors in his lifetime; at the end of the day people seldom chose anything over their own life. 

Was it cruel to wonder how far he could have pushed you to test the theory? 

No, he didn't want to hurt you, but as he watched you deliver a eulogy painting Poe as a white knight to spare his loved ones the truth about the pathetic swine he'd become, he questioned if you really were that selfless, or did your loyalty run that deep? 

Either way, you were a mystery to him...and if he didn't walk away while he still had some shred of self control, there wasn't anything on the goddamn planet that could save you from him. 

**************

**(** Two Months Later **)**

 **(** You **)**

The last several weeks had passed in a blur. In some ways you preferred it that way, it prevented you from focusing too long on the things in your life that threatened to slice through the threads keeping you tethered to your sanity. 

You didn't regret what you'd done at the funeral. Poe's parents, your parents, everyone who'd shown up that day to honor him didn't deserve to know the ugliest parts of him. You didn't wish the toxic concoction of grief and resentment you battled everyday on them. They would never have the chance to talk to him, try to help him, or confront him the way you did. Telling them about the dark path he'd taken would accomplish nothing but robbing them of closure. 

The problem was, in choosing to lie you'd isolated yourself. You couldn't talk to anyone about the things that kept you up at night. And what everyone assumed you struggled with - the loss of your husband, the loss of hope that Poe would wake up, even the fear of the arms dealer who'd been behind his death - were seldom at the forefront of your mind. 

Your parents had insisted more than once that you see a therapist. At first you assumed it was just because they thought it was the natural thing to do. But you quickly began to realize that they could see what you'd hoped to hide; you _weren't_ a grieving widow. You grieved Poe, the man he used to be, the life you should have had, but you couldn't summon any sadness over the loss of the misery your marriage had become in its final months. Of knowing that you would never again have to walk through that sterile, cold clinic and pretend you wanted to be there. And you also knew that deep down this was what Poe would have wanted. The idea of being locked inside his body but never truly living would have been absolute hell for him. It was only the lack of living wills and his parents that prevented you from arguing sooner than keeping alive with machines was cruel. 

All the same, to everyone but you (and ironically enough your attacker) your behavior and efforts to move on were concerning. After all, how could anyone be ready to move on from the wonderful man _you_ described in your eulogy. 

It was a self-imposed isolation, but it stung no less. The alternative wasn't one you wanted to live with. So you kept your head down and your mind blank. Or at least you tried. 

There were moments, especially at night, when your attacker would drift into your thoughts. And it wasn't always fear he inspired. 

You'd invested in a security system after that night, double checked locks at night, and still struggled with PTSD. Loud noises made you edgier than they ever had. You were more weary of people. But when your dreams weren't filled with pent up fear of the violence you'd felt those large hands capable of...when you pictured him he was holding you again. Whispering in your ear. You felt his lips against your neck, across your collarbone, teasing you. He hovered above you, that raven black hair hanging down and tickling your skin as he claimed your lips, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth. You arched into him, your skin ablaze, desperate for his touch. He chuckled as he caught your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. Mischief dancing in his amber eyes as he wedged his knee between your thighs, " _Eager little thing, aren't you, kitten? I wonder...how long would it take to get you to **beg** for it_?" 

The images should have sickened you. Not only had this nameless man broken into your home and terrorized you, you knew he was the one who killed Poe. Who else could have done it? Thanks to the truth serum 'cocktail' he'd injected you with you told him everything he could have needed to track down the clinic. The only thing he should have inspired in you was fear. Disgust. Hate. 

But instead every time he invaded your dreams that way you found yourself waking in a haze of lust and desire, still able to feel his fingers hooking around your panties, just as impatient as you to be rid of that final barrier. The roughness of his possession, his thumb pressing on your clit, his breath warm in your ear, "That's it, s _cream for me, love. Let me feel you come apart_."

 **No**. 

You shook your head as if that would help clear your mind from the gutter you'd fallen into. You blinked a few times, almost surprised to find yourself in your kitchen, standing over a hissing tea kettle. Feeling your skin flush with embarrassment you quickly pulled it off the stove, briefly thanking whatever higher powers that be that you weren't cooking or you probably would have burned the damn house down while you fantasized about getting fucked by a psychopath. 

**That** was what you needed therapy for. 

You took your time steeping your tea, breathing in the sweet scents of white peach and orange blossom. You'd almost managed to return your heartrate to normal when your phone vibrated on the kitchen counter next to you, clattering loudly on the granite and making you nearly jump out of your skin. 

Cursing yourself for what felt like the thousandth time that day, you picked up your phone and answered without checking the caller ID, balancing your mug in the other hand, "Hello?"

"Hello, (Y/N)."

You heard the shatter of the ceramic before you even registered you'd lost your grip on the mug. You felt your blood turn to ice; it was _him_. You knew without so much as a single doubt. That voice haunted you. 

"You should be more careful, you could hurt yourself." His tone turned almost chiding at your clumsiness and your eyes shifted to the open kitchen window...had he heard the cup hit the ground or was it possible he was watching you? "It's been a long time. How are you?" 

Even he had to see the irony in that question. How were you? He'd blown up your entire goddamn universe and he wanted to shoot the breeze after two months? Letting that spark of anger give you some much needed bravery, your eyes narrowed as you looked out at the seemingly harmless backyard. If he really was out there, he wasn't going to get the benefit of your fear, "How do you think I am?" you countered poisonously, your voice cracking despite yourself, "Some psychotic monster tried to kill me and then murdered my husband. I'm _great_."

To your immense annoyance, he laughed at your sarcasm. Not cruelly, but not without mocking. "Psychotic monster, hmm? I think you can do better than that." Yet just as quickly as he gave into humor it seemed to dry up. When he spoke again there was a dangerous edge to his voice, all hints of teasing gone, "And I think we both know you were his wife in name only. Though I won't fault you for loyalty; you could have won an Oscar for your performance at the funeral."

The bravery you'd felt only moments before evaporated in an instant, leaving behind a sense of dread that flooded your veins. "You...you were there?" you managed to choke out, trying to think back to that day. Surely you would have seen him? He didn't exactly blend in. Not with his looks and height. But the funeral was such a blur and there'd been so many people there....would it really have been so difficult to go unnoticed? 

"Of course I was," he responded casually, as if the thought of doing anything else would have been ridiculous. Why should a murderer not attend the funeral of his victim? You heard something from his end that sounded like muffled voices before hearing the quiet taps of his footsteps. When it was quiet he spoke again, "I didn't call to discuss him." 

Biting back your snarky thought that you hadn't answered to talk to _him_ , you sighed, your head still spinning from his confession, "Then why did you call? Christ. Haven't you done enough? I don't even know what your name is and you-"

"I'll tell you when I see you." He interrupted seamlessly, his quiet promise sending a new wave of chills down your spine. "Tomorrow morning. I'll text you the address. We'll have breakfast. Talk." 

Ignoring the fact that you had the day off tomorrow, you struggled to find words to respond. Was he insane? Well...obviously. But did he really think you would want to go grab pancakes with a murderer? The man who terrorized you? The dreams were one thing, but this wasn't a fantasy. It was real life, where you could just as easily end up with a bullet in your own skull. "I'm not going anywhere near you. But I'd be glad to send Agent West. He'd **love** to chat." 

The agent was still hard at work trying to put him away, but realistically you knew it wasn't going well. The FBI didn't even know his name. Hell, you weren't even sure they knew what he looked like aside from your description. At least you thought they didn't. If they did they were refusing to disclose it to you. It had been months since Poe's death...years since some of the other kills they credited to this man. You knew their chances of catching him were currently slim to none. 

"Oh, you will though," he said loftily, entirely ignoring your refusal. And why shouldn't he? What did he really have to fear from you? When you glanced down at your phone you saw he was calling from a blocked number. You still knew nothing other than that he supposedly had been at the funeral. What good would that do? "I'm not a patient man, (Y/N). You'll be there. And you'll come without alerting your federal agent friends or I can assure you, you won't like the consequences. I assume I don't need to remind you that I make good on my threats?" 

"No." You murmured quietly, sobered by the malice in his voice. The last thing on the face of the earth that you needed was a reminder of what he was capable of.

You could almost feel his satisfaction radiating through the phone. "Good girl. I'll see you tomorrow."

The line disconnected abruptly...leaving you starring at a blank screen wondering how the fuck you were going to go have **breakfast** with your husband's killer. 

**************

**(** a/n **)**

So this was kind of a slow/groundwork chapter, but I hope you enjoyed. I promise the next chapter things will really begin to pick up. 

Please like/comment/vote and let me know what you thought! 

Thanks for reading! <3


	3. Under My Skin

**_ TWs: _ ** _stalking, sexual situations, dub-con, violence, mentions of murder_

_The Oasis. 167 Harborview Bvld. 9:00 a.m._

You sat in your still-running car, trying to convince yourself there had to be some way out of this that wouldn't get you or someone else killed.

You'd been sitting in the parking lot for seventeen minutes and you still had **nothing**. Every alternative you could formulate came with more risks than you were prepared to take. And those were just the ones you could come up with based mostly on what you'd learned from _SUV_ and old reruns of _Walker, Texas Ranger_ you used to watch with your grandfather every Saturday morning. If you could poke holes in your options, someone like him could undoubtedly obliterate them.

Granted, you could have taken the risk and not shown up. Or called Agent West. But you had no idea how closely this man had been watching you. If he'd been at the funeral, a murderer hidden among mourners, where else had you failed to notice his imposing presence? That torturous thought that had allowed you so little sleep the night before you might as well have chugged a pot of coffee before bed.

The other unknown, and the most important; you had no idea what he was capable of. The crimes the FBI had his name tied to were gruesome to say the least. The sheer number of them had turned your stomach. The man they were describing was more than just a killer; he was a trained assassin. They suspected ex-military or special forces. So skilled that not only were they unable to locate him, or learn his name, they weren't even positive of his appearance. They seemed confident in their ability to link him to crimes, but with no witnesses and a curious lack of camera footage - security systems, CCTV, even doorbell cameras all seemed to malfunction anywhere near him, either that or he managed to avoid them altogether - it was anyone's guess.

You'd been able to provide them with enough information to throw a sketch together, but because you'd been drugged and under duress they'd taken your input with more than just a grain of salt. You were pretty sure the sketch artist just depicted a generically handsome man to appease both you and his superiors.

Long story short...refusing him could easily be catastrophic. Not only for you, but for anyone you might have come into contact with.

Which is why you walked through the door of the small café at precisely 8:57 a.m.

Though you'd been to the restaurant more than once before everything about it looked different now. _Felt_ different. It was dimly lit, made all the more so by the overcast clouds casting a faint glow outside the windows. The booths, bar, and walls were all made from the same dark cherry wood, giving the place an intimate feel. It was fairly crowded, most of the tables filled with chattering, oblivious patrons you hoped you weren't endangering just by stepping inside. Thankfully the seating arrangements were spaced out enough it would give you at least a shred of privacy with your attacker.

Not that you _wanted_ to be alone with him - or needed reminders of the dreams that continued to plague you - but you didn't want to risk anyone hearing whatever it is he had to say.

You looked around the dining room, about to flag down the hostess when you spotted him. In the far corner of the restaurant he sat in a small booth. The last on the row so it was even more secluded than the others lining the wall. He sat facing you, those rich amber eyes locked on your every move. You froze, pausing mid-step; the prey sizing up the predator. You watched his lips quirk, amused with your hesitation. A beat later he rose his hand and beckoned you with two long fingers. Mouthing a single word that both pebbled your skin with goose flesh and had your blood boiling with indignation;

" _Come_."

Near-stomping your way through the dining room, you forced yourself to take a steadying breath. He terrified you. But you were not going to crack in front of him. The night he'd broken in he'd stolen your ability to fight back and relished in your weakness, like hell if you were going to let him do it again.

You hoped.

Stopping at the edge of the table, you narrowed your eyes slightly. He looked different and yet somehow the same in the light of day. That tousled raven black hair gleamed in the dim light. He wore all black again, an expensive looking cable knit sweater and jeans. He had one leg casually crossed over the other, his massive frame managing to somehow still look graceful in the compact space. Those hands...the hands that had tormented you in so many ways were folded in his lap.

Sitting down only gave you a small height advantage, but even then you felt no more in control. It was impossible not to study the way his sensual lips curved. The line of his jaw. The glimmer in his eyes that made no effort to conceal his pleasure in seeing you. You watched him raise his right wrist, flipping back his sleeve in a way that would have made any model melt with envy. "9:00 sharp. You didn't disappoint. Please, sit." He murmured, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the vacant seat opposite him.

A part of you wanted to refuse just to spite him, the presumptuousness of his every gesture calling to the stubborn side of you that hadn't made an appearance in years. But you reminded yourself that nothing had changed since your pep talk in the car. This wasn't a blind date being an asshole...this was a nightmare in living, breathing flesh. Disguised in the most tempting of packages, you would grant him that, but you wouldn't forget the feeling of that freezing water filling your lungs and nose any time soon.

"Not like I had much of a choice," you muttered, realizing your reply applied seamlessly to both his comment and your sinking down into the plush booth. The smooth upholstery was cool to the touch, making you glad you'd chosen to wear jeans. Setting your purse on the seat next to you, you instinctively squared your shoulders, preparing for something. What exactly that was was still a mystery to you, but you assumed he didn't ask to meet you because he wanted a movie referral. When you forced yourself to meet his gaze again you realized with a jolt he'd been watching you the entire time, making your cheeks warm. "Why did you ask me to come here?" You demanded, hoping a change of subject would stop him from looking at you like _you_ were the meal.

Your efforts came to little success. Not only ignoring your question, his gaze held yours without a moment of shame. The ordinary social customs that would compel him to glance away - glance **anywhere** but at you - seemed startlingly absent. Even as your overly perky waitress skipped up to the table, notepad and pen at the ready and completely oblivious to your discomfort, he still refused to release you from the intensity of those dark honey orbs, "Water for both of us, and coffee. One black, the other with two sugars and no cream...right, (Y/N)?"

Once again, he managed to crumble your shaky resolve with only a few words. The mischievous gleam returned to his gaze, daring you to challenge him. Question how he knew how you took your coffee. There was no possible innocent explanation for that knowledge, and he _wanted_ you to know it. The question was, why? What did he have to gain by toying with you aside from a moment of amusement? He was a wanted criminal, that couldn't have been worth the risk.

"Waters, black coffee, coffee with two sugars. Got it, be right back!" The girl chirped, not waiting for your confirmation before heading to her next table. You wondered if they paid her extra to be so cheerful.

"Deep breath, love." he reminded you quietly, finally breaking the spell when he looked down to pick up his menu. Up until then you didn't even realize you'd been holding your breath. Your louder-than-usual-exhale twitched his lips in amusement again before he flipped the menu up, obscuring his face entirely. "How are the crepes here?"

For a long moment you simply sat, trying to process the thought that you were sitting in a booth with the man who murdered your husband after he all but admitted to stalking you and he wants to know how the _crepes_ are? It was a wonder you even remembered what crepes were.

Following his lead, you grabbed your own menu, hiding safely behind it as you struggled to maintain composure. Your eyes glazed over trying to read the menu, too lost in thought to even give food consideration. Your stomach was in knots anyway, full of some confusing mixture of butterflies and dread. "How long have you been watching me?"

Though you could barely force the words from your lips, when he responded, he sounded as casual as if you'd asked him the weather, "Today, or in general?"

The return of the ever-pleasant waitress bought you a few moments to try and stave off the panic threatening crash into you. It wasn't that this was the first time you'd wondered if he'd been stalking you, but some part of you had been able to hold on to the hope that you were being paranoid. The therapist you'd gone to see exactly twice before giving up assured you it was perfectly natural to feel watched after what you'd gone through. Agent West promised you there was no reason to think you were in danger. You told yourself it was ridiculous to think a man living his kind of lifestyle would ever give someone like you a second thought.

Seems you were all sorely mistaken. 

Setting down your assortment of drinks you distantly heard the girl ask for your orders. Not bothering to try and decipher the nauseatingly colorful menu you gestured vaguely to something on the first page, scarcely caring what would arrive at the table later. The waitress took your menus and sped off again, leaving you along again with your self-admitted stalker.

But now without a menu to hide behind you felt all too keenly the intensity of his stare. His words replayed in your head, serving as yet another chilling reminder you weren't dealing with an ordinary man. These weren't the kind of confessions ordinary people traded over the breakfast table. But...terrifyingly direct or not, once you got past the shock you had to question again why. In your mind there was nothing special about you to warrant this attention. You were attractive enough and reasonably intelligent but this was a man who had seen the world and done and taken everything he wanted.

"Why me?" You finally blurted out, your nerves and patience alike betraying you. You were tired of being a step behind him. Raising one perfectly arched brow you crossed your arms, silently demanding an answer.

As you should have predicted, he didn't answer right away. You could tell by the slight widening of his eyes he hadn't expected you to be so forward, but the flash of pleasure in his all too expressive eyes didn't bode well for you. He was beginning to remind you of a cat playing with a mouse. Toying with something so laughably outmatched until a moment of boredom would cruelly end its life.

"I don't know," he finally muttered quietly, the amusement fading from his handsome features, only to be replaced by curiosity. Maybe a hint of frustration. The pinch between his brows might have been endearing under different circumstances. Or maybe only if worn by a different _person_ altogether. "I tried to leave you alone. And I did for a while. I had to leave town for a job that kept me busy for several weeks. I thought by the time I finished I would have forgotten you. Instead you haunted me more than ever. So I came back, assuming a glance would suffice, but I was wrong again."

Whatever you'd been expecting, it hadn't been candor. Not to this extent. It was unsettling how comfortable he was owning his actions completely, no matter how wrong or perverse they might be. You were so accustomed to day to day life where most people would rather cut off their right hand with a rusty fork than admit fault. And that was over the pettiest of sins. The kinds of things he mused over were the secrets people took to their graves.

Was it bravery or confidence that rid him of the burden of secrecy?

"I felt it the night we met. That pull. I think you did too once you stopped fighting me." he mused, now raising a brow in your direction. Seeking confirmation.

Disbelief colored your features, and you made no effort to hide it. You glanced around you, checking again that no one was close enough to hear before looking back at him, subconsciously leaning closer, "You mean after _drugging_ me? That wasn't a **pull** , it was science. I would have reacted the exact same way to any other decent looking man." That was a bit of a stretch. Yes the drug he'd given you lowered inhibitions...but you had to feel _something_ to want him to stay.

Almost as if he could sense the direction of your thoughts, he leaned closer to you, the table the only barrier existing between you now, "Is that so, pet? You routinely curl up and purr like a sated kitten in the arms of every 'decent looking man' you stumble upon?" Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his leg under the table shift, shoving your left foot to the side, spreading your legs under the table. "Are you sure you remember everything? Like the way you rubbed that gorgeous little ass against me, begging for me even in your sleep?" His hand appeared on your jean-clad knee, resting there as naturally as if he'd had any right to.

You moved your own hand under the table, determined to push him away. Thinking you succeeded at prying those deft fingers from your knee was a short lived victory; he only released you so he could grab your wrist, holding it in a vice-like grip. To anyone observing there wouldn't appear to be anything amiss at your table, perhaps with the exclusion of your futile efforts to tug your arm back. His limbs were so long he could reach across the span of the table with only the slightest dip in his shoulder.

Rather than continue to fight his grip psychically - it wasn't a fight you were going to win -, you forced yourself to relax. Instead choosing to glare defiantly at his smugness, "You seriously expect me believe that I have some unconscious attraction to the man who tried to kill me? Who _did_ kill Poe?" But even as the words left your mouth you knew they weren't entirely true. If he had any idea what you'd been dreaming about...

"I'm sorry for that," His brows cinched together...you could almost believe he was being genuine. His thumb traced circles over the back of your hand, gaze burning with sincerity, "For hurting you," he stipulated, "I should have found another way. If I could go back and do it differently I would. But I wouldn't have killed you."

Your jaw slackened, at a loss for how to respond. Both to the notion that he was regretful for torturing you, and the knowledge that he could regret hurting you but feel nothing for taking the life of another person. You still didn't even know why he hated Poe so much. All Agent West had been able to tell you was that he was a contract killer...but he'd let slip enough that you knew it was personal. It had to be.

The arrival of your food bought you a few moments to yourself to mull over your thoughts. He, mercifully, released you, his hand appearing on top of the table as if nothing had happened. The waitress set omelets down in front of you both. Annoyingly, you'd inadvertently chosen the same thing he had. "You two enjoy!"

It took you several seconds to realize after the waitress trotted away once more that he wasn't eating, either. He looked expectantly between you and your silverware, waiting for you to eat. Well, that was ironic. He wasn't morally opposed to murder and espionage but adverse to poor table manners. Go figure.

Not wanting to delve into your attacker's quirks, you busied yourself with spreading your napkin over your lap, "You still haven't told me your name," you reminded him, plucking your fork from the table and cutting off a piece of your omelet before popping it in your mouth. It was some kind of southwest blend with peppers, mushrooms, and cheese. His earlier admissions still unsettled you, but the distraction of eating was more of an asset than you'd given it credit for.

Once you began cutting off a second bite he dug into his own food, seeming satisfied you were willing to play along. "I suppose you'll need it for your report to Agents West and Dommer?" he questioned, a hint of that smirk playing over the edges of his mouth before taking another bite, eating with obvious gusto. Though you weren't sure if he was teasing or actually accusing you of going to the FBI after he'd told you not to, he seemed indifferent either way. "Kylo."

"Just Kylo?" You questioned, fork suspended halfway to your mouth. You'd never heard the name before. Granted you had to take it with a grain of salt, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think he would give you a fake name or went by an alias. Clearly he was fairly invested in staying off the books; it had to have taken Herculean effort to leave FBI scrounging.

He seemed amused by your skepticism, shrugging rather than explaining. It was such a casual gesture it seemed painfully out of place given the current circumstances. Then again, considering his usual day to day activity, breakfast with a woman he was stalking was probably mild. "Just Kylo," he repeated, spearing another piece of food.

"So what happens now, 'Just Kylo'?" You asked, determined not to shy away from the reason why you'd shown up. What did he want from you? Surely if he'd gone through all this trouble it wouldn't end with the check for breakfast. There was more to the story, and if you stood any chance of avoiding the fate he had planned for you then you were going to need more information than a little flirting and veiled threats. "Whatever you've convinced yourself about me, I don't feel anything for you other than **revulsion**."

There was a shift in the air. It was tangible in the air itself. Something deep in his eyes that made you certain you hadn't even scratched the surface of who he was. Or what he was capable of. But he didn't comment. It was only the twitch of one dark brow that told you this was far from over.

You both finished your food in silence - a tense one that raised the hairs on the back of your neck - before he pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, tossing a $100.00 bill on the table. It was easily three times what the bill would have been. Rather than waiting for the waitress to return - if anything he'd proven he didn't give a damn about social customs - he slid lithely from the booth, rising to his impressive height with a grace that would have made a dancer sick with jealousy. You felt your cheeks warm when you felt his gaze flicker down to you, one hand rising to gesture that you should join him.

Again you felt that baser, more stubborn side of yourself flare up at his audacity. But who were you kidding? He knew you wouldn't risk every life around you just to spite him. Taking your chances with your own was one thing, but these people sitting around in blissful ignorance could become collateral damage with little to no incentive. And you didn't doubt for a second he saw every last one of them as expendable.

So you followed his lead, grabbing your purse from the booth beside you and climbing to your unsteady feet. You started walking towards the door, shuddering at the feel of his hand on the small of your back. That tender gesture was riddled with false intent.

You could scarcely managed a smile when the hostess wished you a good day. He was so much better at this then you were. He was relaxed. Calm. Just another person out for a nice meal. You felt like a coiled spring, spun so tightly the slightest of prompting would have made you _snap_.

The cool breeze washing over your clammy skin was a welcome respite; you'd never been so relieved to see a parking lot in all your life. Though your legs longed to run, to make a break for your car and take your chances, he had other ideas. You stifled a gasp when his hand slid from your back to around your arm, yanking you abruptly back to him. You found yourself pressed against the side of the building, the rough brick scratching your back through your blouse.

His hands - those _hands_ \- appeared on either side of your head, caging you between the wall and his chest. Glancing around you realized why he'd chosen the spot he had. From where you stood, no one would be able to see you inside or approaching the restaurant. You noted with poorly contained hysteria that if he'd wanted to kill you, he could have done it right then and there and simply walked away.

You swallowed thickly as one hand abandoned the wall, moving instead to cradle your cheek. To tilt your head up to meet his gaze. It was all you could do to remain upright on weak knees, lost and terrified in the depths of his gaze. The sheer _possessiveness_ that radiated off him in waves. His thumb brushed your lower lip, exploring the plump flesh. Something distinctly **wicked** washed over his gaze.

"You want to run," he murmured quietly, guessing your intentions with such cruel accuracy you had to look away. A short lived solution, he tilted your head back even further, those long, deft fingers spanning to the back of your neck. Holding you in place. "Don't. I'll find you wherever you go. You have my word I have no intentions of harming you, but I make no such promises for anyone who would stand in my way. Your family. Your friends. Your little federal agent sidekicks. Their lives are in your hands. You choose what that means for them."

Though the temperature was only mild, you felt a coldness like death seep into your bones. His threat sent a chill up your spine; he _meant_ it. If you tested him, someone would pay the price...the question was, who?

"What do you want from me?" you finally managed to ask, your hands, as if acting on their own accord moving to his chest. Trying to push him away. His proximity was suffocating. Dizzying. Distinguishing between terror and desire was becoming an increasingly impossible task. How could you be attracted to a man so blatantly threatening you?

But you already knew the answer.

The way he looked at you...that _pull_ towards each other you had so vehemently denied was as real as the hand locking you in place. Sick as it was, he was under your skin. Maybe just as much as you seemed to be under his.

You felt your heart skip a beat as he leaned in, his head inclining towards you. Your lips trembled, anticipation and dread swirling within you so strongly you struggled to maintain coherency. You expected his kiss. You told yourself you didn't want it, but you remained rooted on the spot. Yet it didn't come. Instead you felt his breath tickle your neck. His smirk at the hollow of your throat, ghosting up your neck until his lips brushed your ear, "Everything." he breathed, his free hand appearing on your hip, fingers slipping past the hem of your blouse to rest on your skin. Pressing you into the wall as he leaned against you, letting you feel every inch of his muscled form from his thighs against your own, the contours of his chest, his hardened length pressed into your stomach. "I want every single fucking piece of you. I want to claim every inch of your beautiful skin, your mouth, your body, your _soul_. I want your fear, your lust, your joy. I want to feel you **submit**. I want to feel you shatter, come apart on my fingers. On my cock. I want your screams, your tears, your love. I want you fucking desperate for me the way I am for you. And do you know what, my sweet little pet?" You jumped at the feel of his teeth nipping your earlobe, demanding your attention.

"I've hungered for all of it for _months_ ; and now you're going to give it to me."

Just as quickly as he had you pinned to the wall, frozen with his body, his whispered demands that left you a trembling mess, he stepped back. Freeing you completely from his grip. As smoothly as if he hadn't just sworn to possess every part of you.

He gestured to your car; your freedom. Giving permission. Dismissing you from the prison he was no longer holding you in.

Unable to formulate even an idea of coherent speech, you forced yourself away from the wall, your limbs liquified. Putting one foot in front of the other proved to be a superhuman effort; you just barely held in a gasp when he caught your upper arm, halting you. He didn't pull you any closer, but you wilted beneath his gaze, transfixed by those stunning amber eyes. "Remember what I said; no running, no help." He waited expectantly for the shaky nod you reluctantly gave before releasing you, the promise in his gaze doing nothing to settle your frayed nerves, "I'll see you tonight, babygirl."

And with that _he_ was gone. Slipping away around the side of the building, breaking the spell, but leaving you in a tidal wave of emotions that threatened to pull you under.

****************

**(** a/n **)**

I know that was a **little** shorter than the other chapters but hopefully the 1:1 Kylo time was worth it?

Please comment/like/vote and tell me what you thought?

Next chapter...I'll let your imaginations run a little wild, just know you haven't seen anything yet.

Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Escape

**_TWs;_ ** _dub-con, forced orgasm, sensory deprivation, non-consensual contact, sexual situations, descriptions of violence, blood, gore, and murder._

**(** Kylo **)**

"Anything else you'd like to confess?" 

His tone was deceptively soft, pitying. Perhaps even sympathetic to the untrained ear. Under different circumstances it might have come from a concerned citizen. Maybe even a friend. 

Rather than the man standing over the battered, bleeding victim brandishing a jagged hunting knife. 

The man on the ground moaned in response, indecipherable whimpers following before dying off completely. Another few minutes and he would be dead without any further assistance. For a coward, he had lasted a surprisingly long stretch. Even put up a fight at first before the crying for his _mommy_ and begging first for mercy and then for death. 

The warehouse where they'd spent the last few hours together was secluded. Isolated. Not only at the end of the waterfront properties in the vicinity, but surrounded by empty or abandoned ones. The ownership of the building was questionable at best, currently under the name of a shell company that was connected to active case against a semi-local 'importer' who would be eliminated long before the trial ever came to fruition. By the time the warehouse was discovered and accounted for it would be one of many forgotten landmarks. 

But for the afternoon, it served as exactly what he needed. A sound proof hide out to not only complete the obscenely well paid job of wiping one Henry Mercer out of existence, but extracting every last bit of information he had that would lead to the next name on his list. 

Glancing down again at Mercer he tsk'd mockingly, nudging him with the toe of his boot the way cat tries to **prod** a mouse back to consciousness just so it can savor the kill a little longer. "You can do better than that. Think of your son. What's his name again? Ah, yes. Matthew. Wouldn't Matthew want you to die with more dignity? Or if not for him, maybe for the pretty whore you fuck in your wife's bed every Tuesday morning when she goes to that charming 'Mommy and Me' playgroup. Violet? Think of her, I doubt she knowingly offered her cunt on a silver platter to a sniveling coward." Beginning to circle him, he stepped lightly over the discarded crow bar that shattered both kneecaps and his right shoulder after the tumble down the unforgiving metal staircase claimed his left leg and wrist, and right femur. Potentially a few ribs, but that could have been the sledgehammer. 

Difficult to say. 

To his amused surprise the mention of his three year old son seemed to have done the trick. Mercer raised his head, swollen patches of black and blue decorated nearly every inch of skin. Blood dribbled from his lips, a further consequence to his new missing teeth. Only some, though. The rest would be removed when they dealt with the corpse. 

"Le...leave...my son out...of t..this you so..son of a...a bit-bitch." he slurred out weakly, dull grey eyes hooded and unfocused, but attempting to swivel upwards in his direction. 

A false, humorless smile spread briefly over his lips, "That's the spirit!" he jeered mockingly, simultaneously stepping on Mercer's broken hand, feeling decimated bones further _splinter_ as he dug his heel in, ignoring the renewed wails. Crouching down, he grabbed a fist full of his hair, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze, "I don't want to involve Matthew in this, Henry. He's a good kid. Offered me half his sandwich last week in the park while your imbecile of a babysitter flirted with a rent-a-cop." He withheld his smirk at the alarm in Mercer's eyes when he realized just how pathetically unprotected he and his family had been this whole time he thought he was invisible, "But innocent people die every day. Sins of the father and all that. But you have a rare opportunity here to prevent such a distasteful fate. You can give me what I need and your son will see his fourth birthday in two weeks. Or you can continue to piss me off with your uselessness and I will ensue your final moments are made of every parent's most _nightmare_." 

Truthfully, he had no intentions of harming the boy, no matter what his father chose. While he was no saint, slaying a toddler as petty revenge was a brand of fucked up only fit for animals. But Mercer didn't need to know that. And thankfully he didn't have to devise a plan B; apparently he was convincing enough. 

"P-please do..don't. I'll t...tell you where h-he is," He rasped out, arm dragging laboriously across the blood stained concrete to press against the gaping cut in his abdomen, a fresh gush of blood slipping through his fingers. A pained groan escaped his bloodied lips, eyes rolling back momentarily, undoubtedly praying to the powers that be that death claim him. But in his experiences prayers seldom went answered in the end. "He re-refused to...go in...into pro..tective custody. I don...don't know ex-actly where...he is...but he's in New Orleans...pl...please. Tha...that's all I...know. Please don't hurt...my boy." 

In one of the few instances of the afternoon, he actually believed him. And while it wasn't an exact address, it narrowed the field enough that his hackers could do the rest. 

With that final confession, Mercer had served his purpose. Offering him a complacent smile, he nodded consolingly, "You have my word, he's safe." 

Without so much as a blink he lashed out with one decisive strike, the jagged knife gliding across Mercer's unprotected throat. His eyes widened in shock as what little remained of his life drained away, soaking the front of his shirt and then pooling beneath him. The hand that had been clutching the wound in his stomach went slack, falling to his side, completely motionless. He stayed long enough to watch the light die from his eyes before climbing back to his feet, hand already reaching for his phone in his pocket. 

"It's done, get everything cleaned up. Thills has been hiding in New Orleans, I'll have the hackers start digging. Unless it's life or death I don't want to be disturbed tonight." 

He had business of an entirely different nature to handle. 

**You**. 

*****************

Tonight.

That was his promise, and you didn't doubt he intended to keep it.

Much as it disturbed you, you knew full well he already knew where you lived. He'd already broken in successfully once before, were you really naïve enough to believe the forces that be behind a local security company (that would only summon the police) would deter him? Scarcely a threat for a man who treated trained federal agents like annoying **pests**. And no matter what measures you had or could take to arm yourself, you seriously doubted you'd be ready to face off with an assassin in less than eight hours time.

Which meant that your options had essentially been limited to two possibilities; stay and wait for him to show up, hoping that whatever he had planned for you wasn't of the same lethal variety he promised all your loved ones would suffer for your resistance, or run.

Technically, he had told you not to run, but you were reasonably confident he meant in the most dramatic sense of the word. You had no intentions of tossing what belongs would fit in a duffle bag and fleeing as though your life depended on it. Maybe you were crazy to put any modicum of trust in a wanted killer, but if he'd wanted to do _anything_ to you, he'd already had every chance to. More than once. And even if Kylo was disturbed, or a psychopath, or any variation of the things that went **bump** in the night, you found yourself unable to question his sincerity.

Considering that, a breakneck race for the airport hardly seemed the solution. But you refused to just sit complacently waiting for him to make his next appearance. Threats or not, you weren't going to make this easy for him. Not after everything he'd done. At least if you weren't there waiting for him he was more than likely to dedicate his time to pursuing you rather than someone else.

The problem was that devising a way to complicate his life while not giving him cause to harm someone - whether they be a loved one or an agent of law enforcement that didn't deserve to be collateral damage, either - wasn't easy. And you weren't so desperate, or so selfish that you could justify the risk. 

You took a solid few hours to decide on a plan once you got to work, barely able to focus on anything that wasn't related to your raven haired stalker.

You forced yourself to admit the word. **Stalker**. While the crimes of murdering Poe and attacking you were made no less concerning by the revelation, there was one key difference; the first two were over. His new hobby of following your every move was a current problem with no end in sight.

It still baffled you why Kylo had chosen you. Really. Didn't he have better things to fill his time with than following your every move and treating you to threatening breakfasts? How had a night of waterboarding and drugging you endeared him so much? You wanted desperately to know if Agent West (or Dommer) knew anything that could help explain, but there was no way to get information from them without arousing their suspicions. Granted, if it was just your safety, you might have been willing to just take the risk and tell them everything. But ironically enough if Kylo was telling the truth yours was the only life _not_ on the line. 

However, deciding to deal with the more immediate problem, you put your curiosity on the backburner. When you finally finished up at the office that evening, rather than heading home as you normally would have you treated yourself to some not-so-stress-relieving retail therapy. Ever since that morning you couldn't shake the feeling of being _watched_ everywhere you went, but now more than ever you thought it was more than likely your imagination playing tricks on you. Surely he didn't watch you all the time? 

Nonetheless, you made quick work of finding some comfortable pajamas, an outfit for the following day, and an assortment of toiletries before heading to the hotel a few miles from your office where you'd booked a suite. You knew it was tame on the rebellion scale to simply stay somewhere aside from your house, but it at least made you feel slightly more in control to not be playing into his hands. 

You weren't a willing participant in this game; be damned if you were going to act like it. 

Check in was a mercifully quick process. One of the benefits to springing for a a luxury suite rather than standard room, you assumed. Your bags were delivered to your room while you put in an order for room service later in the evening - a buttery seafood pasta that was supposedly a chef's specialty and local favorite - before heading up yourself, already dreaming about relaxing in the massive jacuzzi bathtub you'd seen pictures of online. 

The room was easily the nicest you'd ever stayed in, complete with a kitchenette, living room, massive king suite. And the bathroom. You could have lived and died in that bathroom and been entirely content. Almost as large as your bedroom at home. The smooth stone floor was heated. The his and hers sinks were lined with an assortment of complimentary soaps and bath salts that you happily tossed in to the massive jacuzzi tub that sat freestanding in the middle of the room. A tiled shower stall stood against the far wall that would probably be much more appealing in the morning. 

After grabbing your new silky pajama set and a fluffy cream colored towel from the shelf you quickly shed your clothes by the door, planning to savor every minute of the hour you had before dinner arrived. Climbing carefully over the side of the tub you sunk into the hot, sweet smelling water, a soft moan of pleasure escaping your lips as your tense muscles immediately began to relax. You waded to the far side, making yourself comfortable against the plush bath pillow. The lavender scented bubblebath you'd thrown in had created a hauntingly fragrant cloud around you, tickling your skin as you spread your limbs out. The tub was massive, another two, maybe three people could have comfortably fit inside. 

Though the cost of the room for a single night had been alarmingly high, you found yourself immensely at ease with the expense. 

You lost track of reality, your eyes closing in contentedness. Lids growing heavy as the emotional roller-coaster you'd been on all day dissipated. 

"If this is your escape attempt, you're doing an interesting job, _pet_."

The sound of his voice so close to you, murmured right in your ear, so close you could feel his breath in the tendrils of hair on your neck, startled you violently to consciousness. Your heavy eyelids parted in pure alarm; a scream building in your throat that his gloved hand muffled before it could come to fruition. 

His grip was punishingly tight, so firm it pinned your head to the side of the tub, only the bath pillow cushioning the rock hard surface. Your hands pried at his arm, soaking the sleeve of his long sleeve black shirt through. Water and bubbles sloshed over the side with your violent struggles, pooling on to the stone floor. But nothing would deter him. You could feel the power in his hand; holding you down was **effortless**. 

His other hand appeared at the top of your head, petting your now dampened hair back, maneuvering around the messy bun you'd pulled it into. In you limited scope of vision you could tell he was kneeling beside the bathtub, balancing just behind you. "Now, now," he murmured quietly, continuing to stifle your failed screams and profanities, cajoling you as if you had no reason to be so hysterical, "Don't be scared, babygirl. I _did_ tell you not to run."

But you weren't scared. Unsettled. Disturbed that he'd not only continued to follow you and somehow broke in entirely undetected to your hotel room, but you weren't the petrified doe caught in the headlights anymore. You refused to be. Fear may have been impossible to completely erase but it could be overridden with _anger_. 

Your hands, still clutching his forearm, found their way beneath his sleeve. Nails digging into his exposed skin **hard** , drawing blood. A hiss of pain sounded behind you, a muffled curse that left you oddly satisfied. It hardly mattered in the moment of that small victory the bubbles had begun to clear, leaving more and more of your body exposed to him. 

Either tired of your continued struggles or weary of your next move, his other hand appeared in front of you, seizing both your wrists in his hand. With your upper body all but immobilized, he had no trouble rising up and pulling you with him. He sat on the edge of the tub now, his torso angled so your naked back pressed against his chest, heedless of the water pouring from your softened skin. Your cheeks flamed as the arm holding your wrists tightened, resting intimately just below your breasts. 

"Unless you want to spend the rest of the evening tied to the bed and gagged," he murmured throatily in your ear, the hardening evidence of his attraction for you a stark reminder of his seriousness, "I suggest you stop screaming and hold _still_." He pulled you just a touch closer, your ass now pressed against his thigh, resting on the edge of the tub next to him. It hadn't even occurred to you that your muffled protests had continued; you hated him, but he had a talent for obliterating all rational thoughts from your mind. 

Even now, you wanted to fight. You _wanted_ to push back. The consequences, you knew in the back of your mind, could be seven shades of devastating, but he brought out a side of you much more willing to act on wilder instincts. 

This time, it was only the knock at the door that kept you from defying him.

If his grip before was tight, it was _suffocating_ now. You could feel the tension in his muscles as he released your wrists, reaching underneath his shirt with his now available hand and pulling a gun from the back waistband of his jeans. Clicking off the safety and pointing it with an alarmingly steady hand towards the door, you shuddered as he growled in your ear, " **One** fucking sound..." he didn't need to finish the threat for you to understand its meaning. 

The two of you sat in complete silence, scarcely daring to breathe as you listened for further signs of your ill-timed visitor. You hadn't left a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, more than likely it was the room service you'd ordered when you checked in. 

You heard the sound of the heavy door opening and closing, a light clank, before the voice of one of the oblivious hotel staff rang out, "Just dropping off your meal, Mrs. Dameron. Can I get you anything else this evening?" 

Repressing a whimper at the crushing pressure of his hand over your mouth, he glanced down at you, gazes locking. He nodded towards the open bathroom door his gun was still trained on, silently willing you to comply. And really, what choice did you have? A bellboy wasn't exactly likely to be armed and ready and engage in a shootout. Swallowing back the bitterness of once again being backed into a corner, you gave a stiff nod, trying not to gasp for breath when he released you. 

Your eyes remained locked on Kylo's, thoughts never drifting far from the tension in his trigger finger. "I'm fine, thank you," you called out, pleased you sounded nothing like a naked hostage desperate to save a life. "Would you mind putting a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door on your way out, please? I'm turning in early." You couldn't risk this happening again. While clearly not pressured by the stress, there was a hungry glint in his eyes that told you he wouldn't have minded _dealing_ with anyone who stood in his way. 

That violence you'd sensed in him from the very first night hadn't gone anywhere. 

"Yes ma'am. Of course. Enjoy your evening." Came his immediate response, a few quick steps across the floor preceding the door opening and closing again. 

Your breaths of relief were simultaneous; identical in feeling yet opposite in cause. You could sleep knowing you prevented a senseless murder. He could avoid a high speed chase with the authorities thanks to your cooperation. Everyone wins. 

Well. Not everyone. 

With the bellboy gone and the threat of exposure evaporated, your current situation once again became priority. So did it seem for him. Dropping the arm trained on the door - though keeping the gun securely clutched in his palm - his gaze raked over you at a painfully slow pace, now inclined to take his time. You moved to slide back into the safety of the water, but he caught your wrist, stopping you, "Not yet. Stand, then turn and face me. Hands by your sides." he commanded softly, those eyes so intensely focused on you it was all you could do not to look away. Though he'd given his word he didn't intend to harm you, he gestured with the gun, a brow raising expectantly. 

Could you really trust a hitman to be honorable?

Your cheeks warmed again, but you knew it wasn't for the same reason. It was wrong, so unbelievably awry with what good sense ordered you do...but once again it wasn't fear alone motivating your actions. The way he looked at you, not just tonight, but since the night you'd met him, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. Perverse as it was, you found it impossible to keep his lust for you off your mind. 

Your compliance, when your jellified limbs finally cooperated, was slow. You slid off the edge of the tub, rising to your feet, facing away from him, as he unwillingly released your wrist to allow you to do so. You could feel his eyes _burning_ into your back. The water, when you were standing, only rose a few inches above your knees; the soapy remains on the bubble bath disguised even less. When you turned to him, your eyes narrowed, that defiance raising its head again, but now it battled with something you'd yet to battle with him.

 **Need**.

Desire, hatred, and shame raged through your veins like wildfire as you brought your fisted hands to your sides, letting those dark honey irises reveal in their unobstructed view. He looked at you the way a blind man gazes at the sun for the first time; awestruck, enraptured, _greedy_ for more. A low growl sounded in his throat, something **primal** and unrestrained that left you savagely fighting the urge to clench your thighs. Heat, hot and furious, surged to your core, slickening your sex. Welcoming whatever beast he longed to unleash. 

When his eyes finally found yours again they were dark, hooded with lust. You were sure if your body hadn't given you away, your expression surely must have. Why could you not control yourself around him? This man...this murderer should have disgusted you. If not for what he'd done to you, than surely what he'd done to Poe? Even if your marriage had been over, even if your husband had grown to feel absolutely nothing for you aside from anger and resentment, did you at least not owe him outrage for the sake of what you once were together? 

Thinking of Poe was like being doused in ice water, cooling some of the heat surging through you. Either sensing the change in your thoughts or acting on his own accord, Kylo extended his hand to you, "Good girl. Come." 

With your conflicted thoughts you were nearly as sluggish to obey, but you eventually slipped your traitorous hand in his. It wasn't much, but it was at least still a small welcome respite from focusing on the pulsing need in your cunt; your painfully taut nipples. Rather than accepting you'd been turned on at the thought of standing there, exposing every square inch of yourself to him while he sat, fully clothed head to toe in black, needing only command you further. 

Swinging his legs to the floor, Kylo rose silently and gracefully to his feet. Startlingly absent of the newborn colt legs you'd been stumbling around on. Still holding your hand tightly, he helped you step out of the tub, grabbing your elbow when your heel slid a fraction on the stone floor, "Careful, it's slippery."

He didn't bother to hide his smirk.

Leading you out of the bathroom - careless of the trail of water you left behind - he brought you to the small, circular table that sat adjacent to the kitchenette. One of the metal framed with white leather backs and seat cushions had already been pulled out, facing away. A piece of modern furniture had never looked so ominous to you before. 

Then again, maybe it wasn't so much the chair as it was the gleaming sets of handcuffs tethered to each arm and leg. Apparently he'd done some setting up earlier when he broke in before coming for you. 

Your momentary distraction was all he needed. Using his grip on your wrist, he all but slung you into the chair. With reflexes like his you barely had time to process what was happening before each wrist was safely encased in steel. You pulled against them in stark disbelief as your ankles met the same fate. The give was so short it prevented you from closing your legs. 

Kneeling in front of you, his hands moved temporarily to rest on your thighs. Looking up at you through the tangle of his impossibly thick lashes, he bent and pressed his lips to the top of one of your restrained wrists, "Don't struggle with your bonds, little one. You're not going anywhere." 

You weren't sure whether to scream or melt as he rose to his feet again and disappeared behind you. 

While he busied himself behind you - you heard a zipper open, one that _didn't_ sound like the kind stitched into jeans, it was too loud - you found yourself near hyperventilation with nerves and craving. The more rational side of you argued you'd done absolutely nothing to prevent yourself from ending up in the most vulnerable position imaginable. The other part ruled entirely by increased blood flow reasoned you couldn't be quite so _unwilling_ if you hadn't even bothered to put up a fight. 

That side was happy to accept whatever he had planned for you and push thoughts of his crimes and lethal nature to the back of your mind. 

"Now what?" you finally managed to rasp out, so _close_ to not giving a damn how breathless with need you sounded. 

The immediate answer came in the form of a black strip of fabric appearing over your eyes, completely depriving you of sight. You swallowed roughly as you felt his hands at the back of your head, deftly tying it in place. The torturously light touch of his fingertips ghosting across the sensitive skin of your throat startled you, an in-drawn breath audibly rasped from your lungs as he tilted your head up, exposing your neck to him, "What do you think?" His other hand slid with deliberate slowness from your shoulder, trailing over your collarbone, all the way down to your right breast. Skilled fingers palmed your supple flesh appreciatively before finding their way to your aching bud, a delicate pinch followed by one far **less** gentle eliciting a poorly contained moan from your lips, "You're going to come for me until you can't remember your own name babygirl...and everyone in this fucking hotel knows **mine**." His growled promise left your sex tightening, dripping. Desperate for exactly what he demanded, yet still feeling a deep rooted sense of betrayal choking you as he transferred his attention to your left breast, giving it the same treatment that left your fingers _shaking_ , longing to reach for your neglected clit. The harsh pull of metal reminded you it wouldn't be easy.

"Such a good, sweet little pet. So needy. So responsive before I've barely touched you." A blend of amusement and pride bled through his tone. Clearly not burdened with any guilt of splaying out his victim's wife for his enjoyment. For **your** enjoyment. 

Again letting his hand trail down your burning skin, you felt his calloused fingers glide along your stomach, dipping down your navel, and stopping _just_ shy of your slit. This madness had you half delirious. Not being able to see what his hands had planned next alone was torture. 

When he finally dipped a finger into your opening, exploring your tender flesh, you felt his smirk against your neck as his lips nibbled at your sensitive skin, "Oh, my girl," he murmured softly, his own voice deeper than before, "you're so ready for me. You would _beg_ for my cock, wouldn't you? You want to feel me plunge into you. Stretching you. Filling you up. Pounding into you while I press against that precious little gem of yours. Tell me how much you want it."

Words of the comprehensible variety had escaped you long before; he'd turned your senses, your thoughts, everything to mush. You couldn't deny it; not at least to yourself. You did want him. Maybe not when you were sated and the sweat had long since dried, but here and now? You would have welcomed it. You wanted to feel every inch of his length buried inside you. This time it was the headiness of desire that left you unable - rather than unwilling - to respond, instead only an insolvent mewl broke free from your trembling lips. 

The hand on your neck had disappeared. You felt his shift behind you, but his breath still tickled your ear when he soothed you, "Ssshhh. I know, pet. You'll have every hidden fantasy stowed away in that pretty little head soon. But not tonight. Tonight is only about _you_." 

You sensed him sink to his knees in front of you now, a hand reappearing on your thigh. His finger, when he withdrew it, was like a psychical **loss**. Bitter disappointment in it - in your own uncontrollable need - flooded you. 

"Mmm. You taste _divine_." 

You swallowed shakily, trying not to dive into the guilt of knowing the man who'd put a bullet in Poe's brain had _tasted_ you.

A startled breath shuddered from your lungs when he unexpectedly plunged two fingers inside you. Your back arched without your consent, hungry, starving for his touch. Just as quickly as those long, rough fingers tormented you they were gone...now poised at your lips. A finger coated your bottom lip in your juices before both were demanding entrance to your mouth, sliding into you trembling mouth, "Suck." he ordered softly. 

Despite yourself you obeyed, opening your mouth wider, swirling your tongue around his fingers, licking the salty residue of your need from his skin. His other hand rubbed circles against your thigh, encouraging you. "Good girl," he repeated when he finally withdrew his fingers from your mouth. You whimpered as they slid back inside your tender opening, hips bucking as he began pumping them at a steady rhythm, adding a third finger to his assault, "No need to be shy," he murmured, his thumb at long last finding your swollen slit, swirling around it, teasing you before pressing down **hard** , "let me see you come apart."

"I....I don't..." you breathed, feeling your walls gripping his fingers tighter, the pressure mounting within you. Your last ditch effort to refuse was a pathetic one. 

"I know," A low moan broke from your lips at his quiet acknowledgement. He continued working on you, never breaking away for even a second, "I know you don't want to, little one. But you will anyway." He sounded almost apologetic. Pitying. As if he had no choice in the matter. As he wasn't the one edging you straight into oblivion. When he spoke again it was authoritative, leaving no room for arguments or pleas, "Stop fighting it and _come_. Now."

As if your muscles were hardwired to his commands, you did exactly that. You shattered around him, convulsing, crying out as he let you ride out your orgasm. The sheer force leaving you spent and lightheaded. It had been a long time. And while Poe had known how to get you off, it had never been anything like _that_. 

Taking shallow, uneven breaths, you flinched when he withdrew again. You already missed his touch. You **hated** his touch. Hands that held you beneath that icy water should never be able to bring you bliss. 

"You're so beautiful," 

You felt him rise again, leaving you with no sign of freeing you of your restraints and plunging into the guilt now seeping through your orgasm-riddled haze. What was wrong with you? 

You jumped when the sound of something hitting the floor in front of you came. You heard him moving around again, riffling through something - a bag maybe?

"I want you on the edge of that chair," Kylo commanded casually, still close by but you were sure exactly where. You could still hear him doing something, but the quiet sounds weren't nearly enough to give you an idea of what he was up to. 

Now coming down off the high and able to think _slightly_ more clearly, you remained still. You'd already let him have his way once, were you just going to happily do it again? If ever there were an opportunity to refuse, to call for help, something, this was it. 

But before you could formulate a response, much less a plan, you felt him join you. Assuming it was a chair he'd dropped in front of you you heard him sit down a moment before he looped an arm around your back, dragging you forward on the chair just as he'd commanded. Your ass just barely rested on the edge of the seat; your glistening, swollen mound suspended. You whimpered as he tugged your knees towards him, so your lower half - you assumed - was more easily accessible.

"Don't. I can see you overthinking it, pet. The guilt is mine. Just relax and enjoy this." Kylo's tone once again left no room for argument, and before you had the chance to ask what exactly 'it' was, you felt the tip of something poised at your entrance. 

Your thighs - on their own accord - automatically clenched, but in the awkward position the cuffs still secured around your ankles further limited movement. The sharp _clank_ of metal against metal didn't deter him. "It's a toy," he explained, guessing the direction of your thoughts. Not that being fucked with a dildo was really such an improvement, but the idea that he'd changed his mind and would be inside you was too much. 

He was gentler than you might have expected him to be, letting you adjust as he eased the dildo in place. You needed every bit of those few-second pauses. It was huge. Coated with some kind of lube that had your skin tingling already. You wondered with a renewed wave of heat to your cheeks how big _he_ was if this was his choice in toy. 

"That's it. That's what you were so eager for, hhmm?" Your back ached in the most delicious way as he retracted his arm from around you. He began pumping the silicone dildo at a quicker pace than he had before, edging just slightly on the painful, but only momentarily before you felt something embarrassingly familiar pressing snugly on your freshly pulsing clit, "Do you recognize it? Not moans this time, _tell_ me what it is." he demanded, keeping it still...and off. 

The need you wished you had even an ounce of control over was flooding through you again. He was still fucking you, that goddamn vibrator you'd gotten as a white elephant gift at a Christmas party last year that had quickly become one of your _closest_ friends fit snugly against you but rendered useless by the lack of power. Even without sight you knew it was yours. If not because of the way it felt than the smugness in his tone. 

As much as you would have liked to defy him this, refuse participation; the threat was clear. You wouldn't get what you wanted until you gave in. "My vibrator," you rasped out, torn between your growing frustration and the discomfort of the position he held you in. You were beyond shame. Your body's need for release overruling everything else. 

The moment he flipped the switch to power it on you couldn't help but moan. Loudly. If the hotel walls weren't thick someone's late night viewing of _Failure to Launch_ had just gotten a lot more interesting. You instinctively leaned forward, leaning towards it. Your forehead finding a resting place against his shoulder, your breaths coming shorter as he chuckled indulgently, "Seems I have some competition," he remarked casually, turning up the intensity a few notches and savoring your mewls of desire against his neck. "Since you left in such a hurry for the hotel I figured you might have forgotten it, so I stopped and picked it up for you." 

"Do you expect a god damn thank you?" You immediately fired back, brazened by desperation. It didn't surprise you that he'd found another way into your house, you'd come to the hotel for that very reason, but what the fuck was he doing rooting through your bedroom and pilfering your things? 

To your immense irritation and disappointment the vibrations came to an immediate stop, though he continued on with the dildo at a now rapid race, enjoying your short, labored breaths. You gasped as his hand wrapped securely around your throat, pulling you away from his shoulder. He didn't quite cut off airflow, but his grip was tight enough that you had no doubt he easily could. 

"Now that you mention it, yes I would." he said silkily. Mockingly. Punishing you for the outburst. "I want to hear my girl thank me for bringing her her favorite toy. I want to believe it, too. Otherwise I might just not let you play with it..." he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish the sentence. You could **feel** his satisfaction at having you such a mess at his fingertips. 

Still fighting for balance and breath, the dildo still ruthlessly fucking you, you cursed him out in your head. _Stupidfuckinggoddamnpieceofshitasshole!_ But even as far gone as you were in sensation you knew how to play the game. If only for a few minutes. 

"Fine!" You moaned, feeling his fingers grip your throat just a hair tighter in warning, "Thank you for bringing me my toy," You could have happily used it as a murder weapon. He somehow managed to pick up the pace even more, dragging an incoherent groan from you, "Ah! **Fuck**. Please make me come with it. I'm so..." an unsteady breath, a genuine wave of dizziness that nearly drug you under, "so close. _Please_ , Kylo..."

As if you'd waved a magic wand the hand around your throat vanished and you collapsed against him again, barely dragging a breath before the head of the toy was back against your aching clit. The bristles tickled your skin as he pressed it tightly against you, the click of a button at the highest setting leaving you **screaming** as you instantly found your climax, your toes curling so tightly your feet went numb. 

He let you wail obscenities into his shoulder, dragging out your orgasm as long as possible, still fucking you through the aftershocks. Your throat felt raw, those guttural screams you didn't even recognize sapping what little remained of your strength. 

Tears traced down your cheeks, a mixture of bliss, exhaustion, and overwhelming regret leaving you too spent to make any effort to stop them. They soaked into his shirt, joining the moisture from your earlier bath. Both toys disappeared when you were finally finished. You thought you heard them hit the floor but you were beyond caring. You felt his hand behind your head, sliding the blindfold from your eyes. 

You blinked rapidly, your eyes needing a moment to adjust to even the dim light. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your head up to examine you. You could only imagine what he saw. Some thoroughly fucked alien version of yourself you didn't even begin to recognize. 

"I'm proud of you little one, you did well." Your heavy lidded eyes could scarcely manage to stay open for long. They drifted closed as you felt him dig something from his pocket before the cuffs began falling away from your sore limbs, "Let's get you cleaned up," 

He lifted you easily up into his arms, carrying you back into the bathroom. 

****************

You were barely conscious after that. You had vague recollections of him running you a new bath, lowering you into the steaming water. After finding a loofa he tenderly washed away all evidence of the orgasms he'd given you. 

When you were done he helped dry you off and dress you, even run a brush through your hair and brush your teeth. Treating you like a doll, but you were in no position to argue. 

He carried you to bed, tucking you into the massive bed like a child. You may have been asleep before your head even hit the pillow. You half expected him to stay, hold you like he had that first night, but he merely pressed his lips against your forehead, content to let you sleep. "My girl, you have no idea..." he murmured as he stroked your cheek softly, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, feeling that uncaged hunger to possess you, take you away, keep you under lock and key so you could never leave his side rearing its ugly head. The knowledge that he would see you again in a few hours was the only thing that allowed him to leave. Leaving no evidence behind of his visit other than a folded note on the bedside table next to you. 

_Sleep well, little one._

_I expect to see you tomorrow after work at your house. 6:00._ _Run again and our next evening together will be spent very differently. _

_\- K_

**********************

**(** a/n **)**

Uuummm. Yeah. Sooo that happened. I told y'all things would be picking up. *shifty eyes*

Next chapter we're going to learn a little more about Kylo's plan, why he went after Poe, and Y/N gets another reality check from our favorite stalker. Potentially more smut. 

Please vote, comment, and like! Let me know what you thought? I'm extremely new to writing smut, have mercy on me. 

Thank you for reading! <3


	5. Consumed

**_TWs;_** _mentions of violence, murder, and terrorism, dub-con, SMUT._

 **(** Kylo **)**

He'd relived the sounds of your moans the rest of the night like a broken record; savoring the melodies, unable to forget even for a moment the way you felt around his fingers. The way you _tasted_ on his tongue. With every passing hour he grew more and more consumed with you, and by morning he knew that if there had been any hope of extinguishing his need for you it was already gone. It should have bothered him more, this power you held over him. To some extent he supposed it did. Maybe a small part of him that could see you as the wife of his enemy who had no business haunting his every waking and dreaming thought every moment of the day. But that part was laughably overruled by the selfish impulse to spread the same wildfire in you that you'd unleashed on him until it scorched you both.

Self denial had been his closest ally for too long; he was tired of fighting it.

After he reluctantly left your room that night, feeling a physical ache at the loss of your warmth, he knew he shouldn't be so quick to reveal in victory. Yes you'd come - at his command no less - but he'd sensed the conflict in you. The guilt you felt at letting your husband's killer have his way with you. In the morning he was sure you would have a thousand justifications to explain why you reacted the way you did. He'd forced you, you were restrained the whole time, he'd threatened the lives of everyone from your parents to the hotel staff. All of which would be true to one extent or another.

They'd also be lies.

You didn't stand on display and follow him out of the bathroom because of the gun; you knew at that point you weren't in danger. How many chances had he had to hurt you by then if he'd wanted to? No, you didn't come with him out of fear. Maybe you were afraid of the side of yourself that didn't despise him, you might have even been afraid of where he was leading you, but your life most certainly hadn't been on the line.

But he could accept for now that you needed to believe you'd been forced. If that made it possible for you to give into him, give into your passions, it was a small price to pay. It wasn't like he was a stranger to being the bad guy.

What he **was** a first at was giving a damn about a woman the morning after.

He wasn't delusional; he wasn't in love. Love at first sight was a fantasy for children. But he was drawn to you. Connected to you somehow. Obsessed. He'd be the first to admit that painfully apparent truth. But it was more than that. It had to be. If it had been a fantasy, some especially twisted desire to send Dameron to the grave knowing he'd had his wife, it would have been done and over quickly.

Nothing about you had ever been so simple.

But admitting this weakness was only one component of a very complex problem you'd created for him. Even if he allowed weaknesses, he couldn't afford them in his line of work. Every attachment was a potential disaster. A sure fire way to end up with a bullet in the head or stuck under someone's thumb. He had no intentions of exploring either. After years spent a slave to special forces, subjected to one living nightmare after another because he didn't have the power to fight back, he'd sworn he would never go back to that. He might work for hire now, but he chose the clients. He set the parameters. And his reputation was lethal enough that no one argued.

Well, no one currently left _breathing_.

Even so, making all the rules came with a price. Keeping such a unique business running with legitimate work and staying off the radar of the feds was a near impossible task. Especially the more traction he and his team gained. Word had spread of their success, the impossible kills they'd pulled off. The good news was they had their pick of obscenely well paying jobs, but the more notorious they became the bigger the targets grew on their backs.

It was the reason why he was so selective when putting his team together. There could be no weak links, no one out for power, money, or glory that would ultimately cost them everything. Trudgen had been the first to join him. It was only natural. They'd served together; gotten screwed over in unique yet painfully similar ways. He was one of the few people in the world who's loyalty he'd never questioned. Not even once.

Ushar and Vicrul had come together; a package deal of hotheaded pricks he wouldn't have looked at twice were it not for their background with Russia's own special forces, and Trudgen's vouching for them. In the long run he was glad to have taken the chance. They could be cocky, arrogant assholes the majority of the time but they were skilled. They got the job done. And when it was time to work they stowed the antics.

Ap'Lek had come looking for _them_. After they'd pulled their first few high profile jobs word had begun to spread. Offers started piling in. And then there came Ap'Lek like a kid fresh out of school with his shiny new briefcase off to interview for his dream job. In reality he was a kid pissed off at the world who'd fallen in with every lowlife on the eastern seaboard. But he had a lot of raw talent, loyal to a fault. Willing to train and put in the work. A few years later he was deadly, and he would have taken a bullet ten times over for any of them.

Kuruk was another former soldier/colleague, it just took him a little longer to realize the ideals that had been drilled into them were little more than brainwashing lies. When he finally saw the light he dropped off the face of the earth, resurfacing on the other side of the law.

Cardo was their most recent. One of the best sniper's on the face of the planet he should have been in high demand, and he had for a time, but after nearly being eliminated by three different employers he'd been ready to throw in the towel and go into hiding when he'd been contracted to kill him. Instead of taking the contract, he'd tracked Cardo down and offered him a job. His was talent that couldn't be passed up on.

They had a diverse skill set, not limited in the kinds of jobs they could accept. Aside from the hackers they contracted to take care of the high level aspects they were self sufficient. Free to travel the globe as long as they were smart about it.

At least, until now. Choosing to stay local to the area where he'd murdered almost a dozen people so he could stalk one of his victim's widow was hardly what anyone - including him - would classify as _smart_.

***************

"Follow up with the hackers on the blueprints for the compound. What the client sent is outdated and doesn't have a thing on the security systems." He muttered to Ushar, not even glancing up from his laptop as he spoke. There were a few other things he needed to arrange for their upcoming job in Berlin, and he was eager to get them out of the way. Not for efficiency's sake, but because he planned on spending the night with you.

He glanced at the clock. 3:45. Just a few more hours.

Typing the last sentence of the email he'd been working on he hit 'send', intending on taking care of a few others before shutting down when he noticed Ushar's stare. Rolling his eyes, he opened the next email and began typing as he spoke, "Is there something I can help you with or are you just **reconsidering** your sexuality again?"

"Like I'd bat for the other team over your pale ass." Ushar shot back, mockingly mortally offended by the insinuation. Refusing to take the hint that he wasn't in the mood to play games or listen to yet another lecture on pursuing you was a bad idea, Ushar gave a casual shrug before crossing his arms, blue eyes full of doubt, "You're going to see her again? You really think that's a good idea? What if she spooks and runs to the feds?"

Ignoring the implication that he would be stupid enough not to plan for that, or to have eyes on her when he couldn't, he continued to keep his gaze fixed on the screen. Though he couldn't help but hit the keys a little harder than necessary, making his screen shake with the force, "She's none of your concern." Just hearing anyone else mention you made his blood boil. Ushar would never be stupid enough to cross that line if he was still vaguely interested in life outside the grave, but this sense of irrational jealousy was only growing worse by the day. "Nor is my schedule. You have your assignments for the night. We'll convene in the morning to make travel arrangements for Berlin."

"You getting your ass thrown in the hole is my business." Ushar argued, clearly still oblivious to his anger that was just barely contained. He tapped one of the keys so hard he felt the button come loose. "And not that any of us have the moral high ground to stand on, but isn't this kind of...you know...fucked up a little bit? You tortured her to get her husband's location and then put a bullet through his skull. Now what? You're going to step in and be the shoulder to cry on? Just let her move on."

The silence that hung in the air crackled with anticipation. It was the exact **wrong** thing to say. Kylo wasn't ignorant, he knew this was wrong. Selfish, too. But he'd never exactly claimed to be a good person. Hence taking life for a living. By most people's definition he was a _monster_ ; why try to be anything different?

A better man wouldn't have used you as leverage against Dameron. A better man wouldn't have made you a widow, even if he suspected you'd been one long before even the accident that left him braindead. His aim wasn't to be a better man; it was to have _**you**_.

Finally drawing his gaze from the screen he narrowed his eyes, fists already clenching. He'd obliterated Ushar in training only a few days before - he was still sporting a wicked black eye - but at the moment he wouldn't have minded going another round. Maybe he'd run out of life lessons if he didn't have any teeth left. "Did I damage your hearing when I beat your skull into the mat?" he asked, tone dangerously quiet.

"Ooh, cat fight." They both turned when Vicrul strolled into the room, grinning from ear to ear as he collapsed on to the couch, propping his boot clad feet up on the arm. He gestured grandly for them to continue, "Don't let me interrupt. I love watching Ushar get his ass handed to him."

Annoying as he and his sudden appearance were, it did at least diffuse some of the tension in the air. He didn't have time for this. Nor would he have chosen to stand around and justify himself even if he did.

After shutting his laptop and tucking it under his arm - he'd take care of work later - he gave Ushar a hard look, "I'll be back in the morning. This is the last time we have this conversation." he growled. Not bothering to wait for any kind of response he stormed out of the room, choosing instead to focus on his plans for the night so he didn't double back and give them both concussions.

"Someone has their panties in a twist." he heard Vicrul chuckle behind him.

Kylo made a mental note to _rearrange_ his face come training tomorrow.

****************

"Y/N...you sure you're okay? You've been pretty quiet today."

You looked up in surprise at the sudden sound of a voice next to you, clumsily dropping your chin from where it had been resting on your palm. How long had you been absently staring at your computer screen?

You didn't really want to think about the answer to that question.

You'd been a ball of nerves since you'd woken up to your very unwelcome alarm ringing shrilly. It took you several moments to pry your heavy eyelids open, make sense of your unfamiliar surroundings. And then the memories came back, slamming into you like a freight train.

 _Kylo_.

He'd broken into your hotel with probably less struggle than he had your home. Appearing out of the shadows looking a cross between an angel of death and a Greek god. But rather than coming to claim your life, he'd come for something much more intimate.

And you, instead of fighting like hell against a man you knew was not only willing and capable of violence and bloodshed, you'd taken his hand and followed him. You'd let him see every inch of your body. Touch you. You'd felt the hands that drugged you bring you to the brink, you _shattered_ around the fingers that sentenced Poe to death.

The guilt and confusion and fury were eating you alive. Were you not already so behind at work you would have taken the day off. Hell, maybe the week. The month. Just give up, crawl under a rock, and stay there until you found your sanity again.

But you doubted it was returning any time soon. How could it? You could scarcely bring yourself to admit it but you weren't just simply struggling with the guilt of what you let Poe's killer do.

You were guilt ridden because you **liked** it.   
  
No matter how hard you tried you couldn't get him out of your head. His touch. His voice. The way he seemed to know your body better than you did. It wasn't as if you'd been celibate before him but this was different. He was different. The way he looked at you, like you were the only only other person on the _planet_. Even when you'd been blindfolded you felt his gaze, his devotion as keenly as if you'd been able to stare into those dark amber eyes. No matter how wrong it had been if you were honest with yourself you knew you wouldn't have done anything any differently. 

You'd woken up to aching limbs and delicious soreness between your legs. The scent of sweat and pleasure somehow still enthralling your senses even though he'd washed away the evidence of his possession over your body. He was still so starkly engrained in your thoughts your hand had moved, without a conscious decision, down your belly towards your still-needy sex while you were in the shower. Your eyes closing, thinking of the way he'd called you his girl, remembering his moan of pleasure when he **tasted** you. 

A knock outside your door informing you of room service you hadn't ordered brought you straight back to reality. As did the _freezing_ cold temperature you turned the water to.   
  
By the time you emerged from the bathroom, dressed for work in simple but stylish knee length black lace dress and still briskly towel drying your hair, another helpful hotel employee had dropped off a tray on the small table. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of the chairs, instinctively glancing down at the faint marks on your wrists from the cuffs. Thankfully Kylo had cleaned up the evidence in the main room too, no one but the two of you would ever know what took place. 

Breakfast was as unexpected as it was unsettlingly _familiar_. Fresh fruit. Yogurt. Bacon. Two eggs scrambled. Your favorite. Something you hadn't ordered. And most definitely _hadn't_ told your new stalker you liked. Breakfast hadn't exactly come up when he had you screaming his name. But you knew it was him. He'd been kind enough to leave a note you realized with another blush had to have been delivered by the poor unsuspecting hotel employee;

_Figured you would be famished.  
_ _Don't be late tonight. Or I **will** come find you._ _\- K_

While you still puzzled over just how closely he'd been watching you - and attempted to ignore the chills that ran up your spine that had nothing to do with fear - found the note he left on the bedside table the night before; reaffirming just how far in over your head you really were.

Forcing yourself back into the present you found yourself face to face with Rick, another junior editor. He was a nice guy, a little too interested in your personal life sometimes, but overall completely harmless. He'd probably thought you were having a stroke as far gone as you'd been. You offered him a weak smile, lying through your teeth, "Sorry. Nope, all good here. Just a long night and a really bad sci-fi thriller." 

Rick gave you a sympathetic nod, though judging by the look in his eyes when he stepped away and headed back to his own desk, you hadn't fooled him. When you looked back at your screen you realized why. You'd never made it past the first page, and the title was printed in bold black font across the top of your screen; **The Fifth Wife of Henry VIII**.

Sci-fi thriller your ass.

Was it time to go home yet?

*****************

You realized the grave error of wishing the time away only when you were behind the wheel of your car less than twenty minutes from your house. Yes you were escaping the curious stares of your coworkers and Rick's frequent check ins - seriously, the guy was pretty convinced you'd lost your mind - but you were trading that for _him_. 

You were seeing Kylo again tonight. 

Would he be there when you got home? Sneak in through another window at midnight? Ring the doorbell? Well. You could at least cross that last one off the list; asking permission for anything clearly wasn't one his talents. Your stomach swam with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. What exactly did he expect from you? He'd made his attraction clear, as well as his threats to what would happen to those around you if you tried to involve the authorities or evade him, but outside of orgasms and continually throwing you off kilter, what did he want? Your life had already been in a state of limbo for far too long. You'd make it your personal mission tonight, if nothing else, to get more out of him than his irrational belief that he had a claim on you. 

Your ride home passed in a blur of traffic and angry rock music you'd turned up to drown out your tangled thoughts. Despite your resolve, there was no way to feel confident walking into the unknown with an assassin who less than twenty four hours before had you handcuffed to a chair while he fucked you with your stolen vibrator. 

When you turned in the driveway you breathed a sigh of relief; no other cars in sight. No Kylo on the front porch. Unless he was hiding in the attic you thought it reasonably safe to assume you were alone. 

At least, you did until you walked through the front door. 

As you kicked off your heels by the door - a habit you'd never been able to drop, even after Poe tripped on them for the dozenth time and swore he was throwing them on the lawn before he broke his neck - you realized the house smelled good. _Really_ good. And not freshly cleaned good, something was cooking. A warm, savory aroma wafted towards you as you made your way towards the kitchen, hearing the sounds of stirring, a wooden spoon making contact with the metal rim of a pan. 

Rounding the corner you were met with perhaps the most bizarre display you'd seen all day; Kylo. In your kitchen. _Cooking_.   
  
For a long moment you simply stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. Of all the ways you'd imagined the night playing out, this hadn't even entered your mind as a possibility. Since when were assassins so domestic? 

He was the one to break the silence, glancing over his shoulder from his place at the stove, "You're early," he observed, checking the clock on the mounted microwave above the stove, you hadn't even paid attention to the time before climbing out of the car, "how was work, love?" 

"Fine," you answered slowly, automatically. You took another step further into the room, still waiting for the punchline. Trying to reconcile being in this room with him - first as your attacker seething with murderous rage and now as your stalker fixing you dinner - was like stepping into an episode of the twilight zone. Shaking your head as if that would clear your mind, you had to ask, "What are you doing?" 

The look he gave you was so similar to Rick's you might have laughed under different circumstances. Clearly he thought you'd lost your mind, too. "Making dinner," he said just as slowly, brows cinching before going back to his task at the stove, deciding not to comment further on your potential loss of sanity. 

As he left the stove to come to the island where he had an array of veggies laid out with the cutting board to make a salad, you crossed your arms, feeling a little braver with the spike in irritation, "I can see that, but why?" 

Selecting a plump looking tomato from the bounty on the island he picked up the chef's knife next to him and began dicing it up with efficient, precise movements, "I'm hungry. I assumed you would be too." Whether he was missing the point or deliberately being facetious you couldn't say. You noticed for the first time he'd rolled the sleeves of his button shirt up, exposing his forearms. The defined muscle caught your attention, but his few visible tattoos kept it. You couldn't quite make out all of them. It struck you for the first time this was the most of him you'd ever seen, meanwhile he'd seen every inch of you. Feeling your gaze, he paused, knife suspended over his work, "Something wrong?"

You were supposed to pick one thing? 

You rose a brow, feeling like you were stating the obvious but he seemed eager for the clarification, "You broke into my house so you could feed me?" 

Returning your raised brow with one of his own, he set the knife down on the cutting board, taking a step away from the island. Closer to you. "I broke in to do a _lot_ of things to you. I thought we'd start with dinner but if the idea is really so offensive we can skip it and go straight to your bedroom now." 

"Dinner's good," you squeaked quickly, taking a step back as he took another forward. You wondered if he could tell just how hard your thighs **clenched**. 

His sensuous mouth curved into a half-smirk as he backed up back to his position in front of the cutting board, resuming his chopping as he hadn't just threatened you. Was it a threat? Could you call it that when you wanted it almost as badly as you dreaded it? "Dinner it is." he agreed amicably, seemingly only mildly disappointed you hadn't jumped at the chance to dive into his other plans for the evening. "I brought a bottle of wine but couldn't find your glasses." he nodded to the unopened bottle sitting on the counter near the sink, changing gears once again so quickly you felt like you had whiplash. 

His question, unintentionally, made you flinch. It was stupid, considering Poe would have drank from a dog bowl if it was the only means of getting booze, but when his drinking had first begun to spiral so far out of control you'd gotten rid of every last receptacle in the house associated with alcohol. The wine glasses had been a wedding gift from his parents so you'd packed them up carefully before putting them in storage, but everything else ended up shattered across the floor, a result of a fit of rage and grief you didn't bother to stifle. When Poe stumbled in the door that night you'd stayed up waiting with the mess. In your head it was your way of saying you were done. The drinking was done. But instead of arguing, admitting he had a problem, or even acknowledging it was the fifth consecutive week of him drinking himself into the gutter he looked from the glass riddled floor to your tear stained cheeks, turned around, and walked back out the door. He just left, as if you were no more substantial than the shards of ruined glass. 

You spent that night cleaning every square inch of the kitchen you stood in now, and when he trudged through the door again that morning neither of you said a word about it. 

"They're in storage." you murmured distractedly, struggling to leave the memory in the past. What good did it do to rehash pain that couldn't be atoned for? 

To give yourself something to do you padded over to the cabinet by the sink, pulling the door open and grabbing two regular glasses. You still weren't totally on board with playing hostess to him, but the wine was sounding better by the second. You grabbed the bottle and brought it with you to the dining room table he'd, surprisingly, already set.

"You do that sometimes," he called after you, making you jump. You looked back at him, confused. "Retreat into yourself," he explained before dumping the chopped tomato into the salad bowl in front of him before moving on to a green pepper. The rhythmic chops against the wooden cutting board made his next question sound only slightly less ominous. "Is it when you think of him?" 

You were so thrown by his intuitiveness it took you a moment to compose yourself. It baffled you how he could go from nonchalant stalking, to threatening you with sex, to moments of seeing things about you even your closest friends and family routinely missed. To call him an enigma was an understatement. 

Walking slowly from the dining room table back to the kitchen, you came to stand on the opposite side of the island from him. That was safe, right? "I wouldn't have thought you'd want to talk about Poe. You usually go out of your way to even avoid saying his name." It was an observation of your own that you were about 98% confident was at least semi-rooted in fact. And not from the standpoint of just not wanting to discuss his crimes. It had been clear since that night he broke in that he _hated_ your husband. But in his efforts to pursue you suspected he shied away from the subject because he didn't want you back peddling into grief. 

Or being constantly reminded of **both** of your roles in his death. 

Kylo paused again, mirroring your surprise from earlier. He wasn't the only one who could pay attention, "I don't," he affirmed, tossing the chopped pepper in the bowl before reaching for a carrot. Both of you studied for a moment longer than most would have; both remembering your drugged ramblings the night he broke in about Poe being a vegetable. Letting the moment pass without comment he began julienning it, "But I can't expect you to feel the same way. He was your husband." A few more chops and he added in a darker undertone, "Not that he deserved your loyalty." 

It wasn't the first time you'd sensed the _rage_ within him. Something dark and deeply ingrained in him that he barely held at bay more often than not. Knowing that potential for violence should have made you tread carefully, but your curiosity got the better of you, "Why did you hate him so much?" 

It was only the slight tensing of his shoulders that confirmed to you he even heard you. He continued on with his task, slicing up the rest of the carrot and adding it to the mix. After glancing at his watch he turned and went back to the stove, giving a quick fluff to what you now realized were mashed potatoes. "Are you sure you want to do this? There's no going back. And I can guarantee it won't leave you any less conflicted on your feelings about your marriage. Or me." 

It wasn't lost on you, the recklessness of what you were doing. He was even giving you an out. The perfect excuse to put a stop to this and retreat to safer ground. You almost did. **Almost**. But if he intended on invading your life for any substantial period of time you weren't going to walk on eggshells. 

Turning to the sink to buy yourself a few more moments you began the process of methodically washing your hands. Might as well accomplish something more than a cold sweat. "Neither will not knowing." After drying your hands you walked back to the dining room table to retrieve your plates, desperate to have something to do other than wait. When you turned to go back to the kitchen you came face to face with him, only inches away. You yelped in surprise; how did someone so massive move so quietly? 

You would have dropped the plates had he not caught them. That swell of dark energy still radiated from him, but the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement before he nodded to the table behind you, "Sit." 

You were no fonder of being ordered around, but deciding to pick your battles you gave a stiff nod and claimed the chair on the opposite side of the table. In the end you were grateful for the few extra moments to catch your breath. To prepare for whatever it was he was about to tell you. 

In what seemed like no time at all he was returning from the kitchen with two plates of food. He sat yours down in front of you before taking the chair opposite you. Without prompting he reached for the bottle of wine he'd brought and poured a generous portion into each of your glasses. 

You couldn't remember the last time, if ever, someone had served you like this. Poe had been hopeless in the kitchen, every warm surface a fire hazard. You'd quickly fallen into a routine of you doing the cooking while he always cleaned up. Oddly, it was a comfort to have this conversation doing something that had no ties to memories you shared with Poe. 

"Eat." Kylo prompted you, pulling you from your thoughts as he took a long sip from his glass. You wanted to remind him immediately he owed you answers, but the lure of food and your empty stomach temporarily silenced you. 

Your plate was filled with a scoop of the buttery mashed potatoes you'd spotted earlier, a cut of tender looking pot roast, roasted green beans, and the salad you'd watched him dice up. He'd dressed it in some kind of lemony smelling vinaigrette that made your mouth water. Better to focus on that than the nervous giggle threatening to bubble up in your throat. 

Something about a world renowned assassin cooking you a roast was unfittingly funny. 

Having accepted that he wouldn't have gone through this degree of trouble to drug and/or poison you, you tucked into your food, reminded immediately you'd skipped lunch in your Kylo-induced haze at work. Taking a bite of the rich potatoes and savory roast you held back a moan of pleasure. It was either some of the best food you'd had in a long time or you'd been ravenous. Looking up you felt your cheeks warm, realizing he was once again watching you with interest. "This is amazing," you admitted. 

A small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes graced his lips; you weren't the only one nervous about the conversation you knew you needed to have. "Thank you," he murmured before taking a bite of his own food. He chewed slowly, still studying you. Maybe doubting his agreement to tell you the truth? Doubting your ability to handle it? As you started on your salad he set his fork down again, perfectly aligned with his plate. "Your husband had a lot of secrets. Both those that you knew about and generously kept from his loved ones, and the ones _he_ kept from even you."

Pausing mid-chew, you felt your brows pull together. Supposing he was right - and that was a big maybe, you had chosen to protect Poe's secrets, but in life he'd been one of the most open people you ever knew - what could Poe possibly have kept secret that would affect someone like Kylo? 

"Dameron was the kind of man who attracted attention. Charismatic. Good looking. Seemingly harmless. Eager to please. I don't have to tell you that earned him a lot of local admiration, but he also ended up on the radar of a deep rooted terrorist organization who targets average people just like him to do their dirty work. A bit risky considering the standard lack of experience and training but significantly cheaper than mercenaries and virtually no risk of stepping on the wrong toes." 

You listened as if he were talking about someone else. A stranger who'd gotten wrapped up in the action movie-esque drama he was describing to you in such factual detail. There had to be a mistake. He had to have had the wrong man. That thought alone made your stomach instantly twist with nausea. 

It took Herculean effort to swallow the food in your mouth. After taking a sip of your wine you shook your head, unable to fit Poe into the narrative, "You're telling me that Poe, _my_ Poe, who passed out every time he got a shot and threw up all over the football field when Jamie Richardson broke her leg during cheer practice, was a _terrorist_?" If you'd been waiting for the punch line before, you were anticipating the full studio audience's laughter now. 

But he didn't laugh. No smile. No sign of falseness. In fact the look he gave you was almost pitying. "Not intentionally. It almost never is. And the spouses and families are always in the dark. At first at the request for privacy, and then under the threat of a more unfortunate fate. If it makes you feel any better I doubt he had any idea what he was getting himself into. Usually the lure is money, career advancement. Something the person either can't obtain on their own or it would take most of their life to accomplish. He was an ambitious man, was he not?" he questioned, using the opportunity to take another sip from his own glass. 

Instant denial rose and fell within seconds. Telling him no would have been a flat out lie. Of course Poe was ambitious. He wanted so much from life and he was both passionate and impatient. Much as you didn't want to admit it, did you really believe if someone had come along and offered him the story of a lifetime or the funds to pursue his own projects he wouldn't have jumped in without knowing all the facts? 

Of the two of you, you had always been the more cautious. The one who insisted on planning. Budgeting. Spontaneity within reasonable limits; like doing some research before getting in the diving cage in shark infested waters. 

Had Poe really gotten himself into something so dangerous?

Nodding at the expression on your face that undoubtedly gave you away, Kylo took a bite of his food before going on, "Once they have people on the line they get them addicted. They make a few things happen so the mark believes whatever they want will be theirs. And plenty of times they do get exactly what they're promised, but inevitably it comes with a price tag. Usually a string of small things that are never fully explained; meet a stranger at a very public place and stay in view of a security camera, drop a sealed envelope off in a PO box. For some, the lucky ones, that's as far as it ever goes. But for others, like Poe, they're eventually asked to do something much worse. If they refuse, the organization by that time has an impressive amount of blackmail to use that would land the mark in prison. At best. Those convicted of treason typically don't last long no matter the outcome." 

"So..." you swallowed against the lump in your throat, overwhelmed with the bleak picture he'd painted, "whatever it was this organization made Poe do is why you hated him? Why you wanted to kill him?" 

Dark approval flashed briefly in his eyes, "Clever girl. Yes. What your husband did is the reason why I killed him." 

The rage was back tenfold. He watched you expectantly. Waiting for you to ask the question. But suddenly you didn't want to know. No matter your insistences, this wasn't what you bargained for. You thought maybe he was going to tell you Poe had screwed his sister or cost him job. Hell, refused to walk an old lady across the street. But not this. This was too much to stomach when you would never hear Poe's side of the story. 

"I'll spare you having to ask, even though I can see you're not sure you want the answer anymore. Dameron was tasked with traveling to Amsterdam, checking into a hotel under a false name and heavily disguised, and leaving a briefcase behind somewhere in the basement. In return, he stayed out of federal prison and off death row. He, of course, was also long gone before the bomb hidden within it detonated. But the seventy eight causalities weren't so lucky. Someone very," he paused, and for the first time you saw a glimpse of more than just raw fury and emotion; you saw pain. Something living, breathing, and still eating him alive. His eyes closed briefly, perhaps trying to find a word or may just picturing the one he lost in the explosion, " _significant_ to me died that day. I took his life in return." 

You felt like the world itself had been pulled out from under you, sending you into a free fall of disbelief, shock, grief, and disgust. No part of you wanted to believe that any of this was possible. You'd come to see some very ugly sides of Poe before the accident, but there was a world of difference between being a mean drunk and a terrorist. 

But Kylo clearly had done his homework. He knew the details down to the letter. What were the odds that he would just act on a hunch? You thought again of Poe's recklessness, something which in so many ways had always been harmless. He never would have set out to hurt anyone, but you could see how he could have been sucked in. And by the time he realized what was happening it was too late. 

If all this were true, it brought to mind a chilling thought. "Is that what all this is about?" you finally managed to ask, your voice sounding choked as you gestured to the table between you, "Coming back, forcing your way into my life. Is this all just part of your revenge scheme?" Almost without conscious thought you scrambled to your feet, your chair scraping against the floor. "What killing Poe wasn't enough? You needed to screw his wife before dancing on his grave?"

He rose slowly to his feet, his expression a little too close to **menacing** for your liking. Despite yourself, you glanced towards the doorway, your fight or flight instincts trying to calculate your odds of reaching either the front door or the garage before him. In the split second it took you to look away he appeared next to you, his hand lightly circling your wrist. So soft and deceptively gentle, stroking over the top of your thumb, anger and lust burning in his gaze, "What have I told you about running from me?" he murmured. He stepped around you, sitting against the edge of the table. He gave your wrist a light tug, pulling you between his legs before his other hand snaked around your free wrist, "Does my princess need to be tied down _again_?" 

You were _so_ not in the mood considering everything you'd just learned. At least...you shouldn't have been. You'd just accused him of using you as part of some sick revenge plot - which he'd yet to deny - that alone should have left you with nothing but disgust and hatred. But his touch, already so familiar, was like a match to gasoline. It was so wrong on so many levels but you were _burning_ for him to touch you again. 

You didn't resist as he pulled you closer, dropping a wrist to loop an arm around your back, urging you to press yourself against his chest. "Don't be afraid," he dropped your other wrist, trusting, knowing you weren't going to run. His hand settled instead on your hip, sliding down your thigh, until he reached the hem of the skirt of your dress. "I feel it too," 

Your breath hitched in your throat, your hand finding its way to his chest. It should have been to push him away, but you didn't. You clung to his shirt, feeling the wetness in your panties as that hand palmed your slickened sex. You followed his touch, your breasts pressed against his chest, wondering if he could feel how hard your nipples were through the fabric of your clothes. You were so, so close to giving in. 

You had to know before you did. "Answer the question." you breathed, trying to ignore the pulsing heat between your legs. 

The arm around your back slid away in an instant. Instead his hand reappeared against your cheek, those torturous fingers moving to settle on the nape of your neck. He drew you closer, pressing his lips in a feather light kiss against your lips at the same time you felt his other hand pull your underwear to the side, one long digit diving into your depths, leaving you gasping into his mouth. "My girl," he growled, his eyes as hazy with desire as your own as he drew back just enough to speak, "this has **nothing** to do with him. I would have come for you no matter what. Even if he were a perfect stranger, still alive and well, we'd be right here. Because," that finger began its slow assault, teasing you, letting your slick walls grip him as he dipped his head down to place a trail of kisses along your collarbone, "you," you felt his tongue across your skin, followed by his cool breath, making you shiver, "are," he moved closer to your neck, a soft kiss followed by the sharp nip of his teeth, "mine."

You weren't sure you believed him, but you were beyond caring. A moan tore from your lips as he spun you around. You felt the loss of the finger inside you like a psychical ache, but he didn't make you wait long. His hands locked on your thighs, just below your ass, squeezing hard and lifting you up on to the edge of the dining room table. Your hands, shaky with need, rose of their own accord, pulling the buttons of his shirt apart. The last one you pulled at so vigorously it ripped from the fabric, hitting the floor with a quiet ping before rolling away. Neither of you could have cared less. 

The shirt was on the floor in seconds and you greedily explored his exposed skin; the taut muscles. You traced the lines of some of his tattoos, too delirious to pay attention to what they were. You leaned into him again, your lips kissing along the contours of his chest as he moved to kiss your neck again, his hand twining into your hair. You reciprocated the graze of his teeth on your neck with a bite to his peck, almost smirking when the hand in your hair turned to fist, forcing your head back roughly and forcing you to release him. He looked down at you with nothing but unrestrained hunger, eyes darkened to shadowy pools of lust, "Take them off. Now." He glanced down to your thighs, referring to the thin scrap of fabric standing in the way. Your skirt bunched up around your hips. 

He kept his grip on your hair as you unhesitatingly obeyed, holding his gaze that gleamed with unabashed approval as you reached down and slid your black lace panties off, letting them fall down your legs and drop to the floor by his feet. Eyes still locked on his you reached first for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it free of the loops of his pants before it joined the growing pile on the floor. You unbuttoned his slacks, tugging them down, revealing the rock hard curve of his erection only just contained by his boxers. You felt your eyes widen slightly; he was **huge**. 

"Tell me what you want, baby." He demanded. Begged? You'd never cared less. But somewhere in the deep crevices of your mind crowded out by desire you realized he wanted your consent. Your submission. 

And you were going to give it to him. At least for tonight. You were on the pill, and you weren't _capable_ of refusing him. "I want you to fuck me, Kylo." you swallowed again, all but panting with need. You wanted him to release you hair so you could feel his warm skin beneath your lips again. You wanted to be **consumed** with him. "I want you to make me forget. I want to feel you inside me _now_." 

You watched whatever thin shred of self control he possessed that prompted him to hold back shatter. There was no going back for either of you. He released your hair from his grip, your scalp stinging, and after roughly tearing down his boxers and freeing his cock, already glistening with pre-cum he guided himself to your entrance. The sweat beading on his forehead told you he was trying to restrain himself, let you adjust to his considerable size. A strangled noise, something between a moan and a cry forced itself from your lips as he stretched you. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming but in the best way possible. 

The moment he could see the change from pain to mounting pleasure he began to thrust into you, first slowly and then faster, harder. Your hands twined around his neck, clinging on to him. Your breaths came shorter, pressure mounting deliciously within you. He had an arm around your back, pressing you closer still, his other hand snaking between your spread thighs to toy with your throbbing clit, "You feel so fucking good, babygirl." he breathed in your ear, driving harder into you with every thrust. Whatever pain you might have felt forgotten as the pad of his thumb pressed on your clit, eliciting another moan. "That's it. You like this, don't you, princess? My cock filling you up. My greedy girl." he teased when your nails sunk into his back, pulling him closer, your legs wrapping around his hips. 

At your aggressive response, a feral growl sounded against your neck. "Hold on," he snarled only a second before his hands were digging into the supply flesh of your thighs again, lifting you up. He turned, your back hitting the wall behind you. He drove into you harder, your bodies slamming into the wall so hard the framed picture beside you fell from the nail, the glass shattering when the frame hit the hardwood floors. 

"Ah! Yes, please, right **there**!" You begged, eyes rolling back as he found the _spot_ with the power to push you into oblivion. Your legs shook violently, your limbs clinging to him as if your lives depended on it. You head going from the wall behind you to his shoulder, only gasps of breaths able to escape your lungs. You felt blood beneath your nails from his back, but his instantiable groan of pleasure told you he didn't mind. 

When your hands found their way to those jet black tresses you found them damp with sweat. As slick with need as the rest of your bodies. You were dripping, welcoming every inch of him, climbing higher with second he pounded into you. He moaned, a low, guttural sound, something intensely primal that sent a fresh wave of heat to your core. " _Fuck_! Yes, come on this cock right fucking now! Let me feel you."

When you came, when he came, it was _life-altering_. You saw the sun, moon, and stars as you came apart, feeling his hot seed inside you. The hands around your thighs were painfully tight, holding on as he crushed you against the wall, a choked, _deep_ moan meeting your scream. His name. Your name. You lost track of your senses. 

Your head rested weakly against the wall as you fought for breath, your limbs like jell-o. Your sweat soaked skin was alive with electricity, so connected to him you couldn't tell where you stopped and he began. With tremendous effort he brought his head up from your shoulder. His chest heaved with his unsteady breaths as he leaned his forehead against yours, his gaze filled with pure **possession**. "You're mine. Say it. Right fucking now, tell me who you belong to." 

Legible thought had all but abandoned you in the afterglow, but dimly you were aware of what he was asking for. It was a betrayal of the most intimate variety, and a part of you knew you weren't anywhere near surrender, but your traitorous lips formed the words anyway.

"I'm yours. All yours, Kylo."

****************

**(** a/n **)**

uuuhhh...happy Saturday? 0___o

Hope you guys enjoyed! This turned into a looong chapter but I didn't want to make you guys wait for the smutty smut. Please like, comment, and vote! Let me know what you thought?

In the next chapter; Y/N gets creative in her efforts to get rid of our favorite stalker, we learn more about Kylo's history, and one more thing

...if the words 'bad girl' coming out of Kylo Ren's mouth make you weak in the knees, I think you'll be a fan of chapter 6.

Until next time! Thanks for reading! <3


	6. Wasted Opportunities

**_TWs;_** _mentions of violence, terrorism, and death, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, sexual situations._  
  
  


Of all the ways you pictured spending your evening, cleaning your kitchen with your attacker turned assassin stalker hadn't exactly made the top ten list of possibilities.

Yet there you were, packing away leftovers into tupperware containers as if it was any other night. As if you hadn't just let Kylo fuck you into oblivion only a few short minutes before. Your cheeks were still warm just thinking about giving in to him. About digging your nails into his back; the way your toes curled as he drove into you, your back scraping against the wall, the pain somehow heightening the pleasure. Those hands gripping your thighs, holding on to you the way a drowning man would have latched on to a reed.

Those fucking _hands_ of his were going to be the end of you.

You chanced a quick sideways glance at him, still stationed at the sink, methodically scrubbing dishes before setting them in the dishwasher. Satisfaction rolled off him in waves. The bastard couldn't seem to stop grinning, clearly pleased with himself for making you admit you were his.

 **His**.

You didn't mean it. Of course you didn't _mean_ it when you told the man who murdered Poe only a few months ago that you were his. You were overwhelmed. Delirious, even. High off an orgasm and literally in the arms of an assassin. You couldn't be held responsible for the nonsense spilling out of your mouth when he'd done everything in his power to knock you off balance.

Of so you would continue to tell yourself.

He didn't make it easy, though. He never had, even from the first night. If he were cold or demeaning afterwards maybe it would be easier to separate from your emotions, but he was nothing but tender. Shockingly, unfailingly so. Praising you. Stroking your hair. Taking care of you. At the hotel he'd bathed you and put you to bed. When you were both spent, chests heaving together, he carried you into the bathroom, sat you down on the counter, and insisted on cleaning you up with a damp towel. When he was done he'd kissed your cheek and promised he would join you in the kitchen once he'd rinsed off.

And then? Then he came out and began cleaning up the table and kitchen like it was his natural place in the world. Kylo, internationally wanted assassin, had not only spent hours cooking for you, he was scrubbing your dishes.

What were you supposed to do with that?

The short answer was that you had absolutely no idea what to do with or about him. If he thought you were going to just roll over and fall into his arms because he knew how to be a gentleman he had another thing coming, but things weren't simple. Excluding the fact that you clearly felt _something_ for him, even if you hated him that wouldn't have gotten rid of him. Kylo had inserted himself into your life and you knew doing anything to change that was going to be difficult. He wasn't a boyfriend you could break up with; he'd threatened nearly everyone in your life if you didn't give him at least some degree of compliance. Sex didn't change that.

One thing was certain, you weren't going to figure it out while he was standing a few feet away. With the food packed away and the counters and appliances wiped down, you turned to find him closing the dishwasher, finished with his task as well. You paused, expecting he would announce his departure since he'd **clearly** gotten what he came for, but he merely cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to explain why you were watching him expectantly.

"Um," you hesitated, wishing you didn't sound and feel so awkward. This was your house. "Aren't you going home or to rob a bank or something?" In none of his abrupt appearances in your life had he stayed for long. Why did it feel like tonight was different?

"I only rob banks on special occasions." he responded dryly, a smirk tugging at his lips. Unbothered by both the insult and the insinuation that he should get out of your house. After flipping off the overhead light above the sink he nodded towards the door, "It's late. We both have work in the morning." At your continued confusion he simply took your elbow and steered you out of the kitchen, turning the light off behind him.

In the living room you noticed for the first time there was a small black gym bag sitting on one of the cushions that didn't belong to you. Affirming your fear that Kylo intended to spend the night.

"I'm not having sex with you again."

The words were out of your mouth before you'd given them a thought, but you meant it. He'd toyed with your sanity enough over the last two days, you weren't going to continue to let him twist things around until you were once again reduced to a puddle begging for his touch.

To your immense surprise - and annoyance - he didn't flare up. Didn't give you that look that made you want to dissolve into the floor. Instead he laughed, genuinely if not a little mockingly. One long finger appeared beneath your chin, tilting your head up, "My girl needs to get her mind out of the gutter."

Your jaw dropped slightly as he released you, walking over to the couch to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. Clearly amused at your building outrage he offered you his hand, "I told you, it's late. We both have to be up early. We're just going to sleep." Though there was a gleam of mischief still dancing in his eyes, his tone was even. Reassuring. All teasing aside...you found yourself semi-willing to believe he wasn't going to try anything.

Not that the idea of sleeping in the same bed with him was much more reassuring.

Trying not to let that thought derail you, you ignored his hand and walked past him, headed down the hallway towards your bedroom. He followed, seemingly unbothered by the slight.

Had you not switched bedrooms after Poe's accident you would have had to insist on going to another bedroom; bringing Kylo into the room you'd shared with Poe would have been like spitting on his grave. Not that you hadn't already insulted his memory plenty with everything else that had happened, but you didn't want to do anything to make it worse. To keep dredging up thoughts that were better kept at bay.

Kylo's earlier revelations were still churning within you. A part of you was still resting in denial, refusing to believe that Poe could have done something first so stupid as accepting favors from an unknown organization, and then so heinous as being roped into being a tool in a terrorist plot. How could he have caused so much death and destruction and not even told you about it? Just go on living his life as if he hadn't been the cause of nearly 80 deaths?

So caught up in your thoughts you didn't even notice Kylo until he was beside you, a hand settled on the small of your back that made you jump. It was a kind gesture, but right now his touch was the last thing you needed.

Trying to ignore the concern in his eyes - why couldn't he just treat you like garbage so it was easier to hate him? - you walked over to your dresser, pulling out your pajamas. You were exhausted. Not just from the last hour, but the day. Last night. The last few months. You couldn't remember the last time you didn't feel weighed down by something.

Clothes in hand you stepped around him, making your way over to the bathroom. You cursed yourself for any attempt to be considerate of a man who'd forced his way into your life, but you still found yourself offering, "The guest room is two doors down to the left if you want to shower. There's towels and toiletries in there." You tossed your clothes on to the bathroom sink before turning, the edge of the door already in hand, pulling it around so only your head poked through. "Can I put in a formal request for you to not sneak up on me this time?"

You got the sense he knew you were deflecting, but he chose not to comment. Instead he gave a casual shrug, as if he hadn't broken into your hotel room the night before. He set his bag down on your dresser, pulling his own clothes out. You assumed you weren't going to get a response to your request so you shut and locked the door, just in time to hear him call out, "You didn't seem to mind last night."

You could hear the smirk in his voice. Cheeks flushing, you sucked in a deep breath, forcing yourself not to rise to the bait and open the door. "I _really_ hate you." you grumbled instead, glaring at the door before going to start the shower.

"Of course you do, princess." you heard him call out before hearing his unhurried retreat to the guest room, believing you only _slightly_ less than you did yourself.

******************

You emerged from the bathroom nearly an hour later feeling significantly better, a towel wrapped around your still-wet hair, your dress replaced with soft leggings and a loose fitting tank top. After allowing yourself a few seconds to curse Kylo out in your head, you forced him from your thoughts, instead letting the steam and warm water consume your thoughts.

Though perhaps it wasn't entirely true to say your raven haired house guest wasn't on your mind. You spent a considerable amount of time on grooming for someone who wasn't thinking about sharing a bed.

Even though you knew Kylo was in the house, it startled you no less to find him sitting on your bed. More like reclined. He was sitting up against the headboard, long legs crossed over one another, as he scrolled intently through something on his phone. His hair was still damp from the shower, hanging down to the nape of his neck. He wore only a pair of black sweatpants and socks, his chest bare. You noticed the tattoos again, curious, despite yourself if they held significant meaning to him.

"You're staring again." he remarked quietly, never bringing his gaze away from the screen. You silently patted yourself on the back for at least not jumping that time.

Trying not to sound defensive after being caught yet again studying him, you mirrored his earlier motion of shrugging, "There's a half naked stranger in my bed." You said by way of explanation, padding across the carpeted floor back to your dresser in search of your hairbrush. You ordinarily kept it in the bathroom but you must have brought it out when getting ready for work the day before.

You stole a glance in the mirror above the dresser, not missing the subtle half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As you finally located your hairbrush he put his phone aside on the nightstand beside him. You were walking back towards the bathroom when you felt his hand lightly loop around your wrist.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. How did he manage to move without making a sound? You supposed it was a necessary skill considering his line of work, but that made it no more comforting for you. You glanced down at his hand, still shackled around your wrist, before raising a questioning brow at him. Trying desperately not to think about his proximity. Or how intoxicating he smelled. Whether it was his soap or body wash you weren't sure, but the way it mixed with his skin, his own natural scent, was enough to make you completely lose your train of thought.

"Let me," he murmured, taking the hairbrush from your number fingers and nodding towards your vanity in the corner.

Did he want to brush your _hair_?

The disbelief must have shown in your expression, because he released your wrist and instead gave a gentle nudge to the center of your spine, encouraging you to go sit down on the small cushioned stool in front of the vanity.

In a daze of confusion you let him lead you to the stool and sat down, watching in the mirror as he pulled the damp towel from your hair. He set it down on the wood surface of the vanity as not to get the carpet wet before he set to work sorting through your tangled, damp hair. His touch was impossibly gentle, never pulling for even a second. Occasionally his nails would brush against the sensitive skin of your scalp, you almost closed your eyes at the sensation but managed to stop yourself at the last moment.

No. You were **not** enjoying this.

"Why are you doing this?" you found yourself blurting out, more desperate for the answer than you knew until the words left your lips. The thought had been there in the back of your mind since his phone call a few days before, demanding reentry to your life. You'd asked him a similar question at breakfast, but he'd never really explained outside of his vague statements about feeling a 'pull' between the two of you. Surely since he kept coming back he must have some idea why he couldn't manage to stay away. Or better yet find a woman he didn't have to threaten to be a part of her life.

"Your hair is tangled." he responded simply, deliberately being coy. You both knew you hadn't been talking about your hair. You wondered if he didn't know the answer to your real question, or he just didn't want to give it.

He wouldn't meet your eyes in the mirror, choosing instead to continue on with his work. You tried to turn around, but a hand, firm on your shoulder, kept you in place. Sighing in frustration you crossed your arms, contemplating stepping on his foot. You doubted it would hurt, they were as sizeable as the rest of his body, but it might make you feel better. "If you're going to keep invading my life the least you could do is explain why." Your tone was heavy with meaning. He'd insisted that his obsession with you had nothing to do with Poe or revenge, so why was it that he was so determined not to let you go? He'd sworn he wanted everything from you - your thoughts, your body, your soul itself - but _why_?

Though he continued on with running the brush through your hair, now distracting you with the tingling of the bristles, it was his turn to sigh, "You deserve an explanation for what I'm doing to you," he admitted quietly, but the sentiment wasn't guilty or regretful. He wasn't going to apologize for forcing his way into your life or his continued insistence on staying there. "There isn't one. I can't give you a logical reason as to why it is that you got so far under my skin I can barely function when you're not with me because it doesn't exist. I shouldn't need you like this."

The frustration was more than evident in his tone now. Maybe even anger. But you suspected it wasn't with you; it was with himself. Considering this was the most you'd gotten out of him so far, you didn't want to give up just yet, "Not that I'm saying stalking people is normal, but needing _people_ in your life is." Maybe he'd just denied himself a normal existence for so long that the norms that came as second nature for other people hit him harder? Contorted his reactions.

"Not for me." he contradicted quietly, running the brush through the last strand of your hair. Satisfied with his work, he set the brush down on the vanity before offering you his hand again, apparently deciding the conversation was over. "Come. Let's go to bed."

"You can't just decide not to have human needs," you argued, standing up from the stool and eyeing his hand but still refusing to take it. Whether you were pushing your luck remained to be seen, but you couldn't stop yourself.

"Is that so?" The glint in his amber eyes made you immediately regret the decision to question him. His hand dropped to his side, no longer offering you the easy way out. Taking a step closer to you, he tilted his head to the side, so intensely focused on you it made it feel like he could see straight through you. You mirrored his step backwards as he continued to slowly advance on you, "An ironic thing to say when you asked me to ignore my 'human needs' and just sleep tonight instead of fucking you _raw_. And please, don't do either of us the insult of pretending like you wouldn't have **begged** for it."

You'd never been quite so hyper aware of his height. The rippling muscles of his torso and arms. The promise in his gaze that it was taking every ounce of his self control not to act on his baser instincts. Regardless of your reaction, he was more than capable of forcing you. Maybe poking a tiger with a stick hadn't been such a good idea.

When the backs of your knees hit of your bed you found yourself inches away from him with nowhere to go. He towered over you, forcing you to look up to meet his gaze. You swallowed, a part of you expecting the worst, but he still didn't touch you.

"Get in bed. I'll be right back." He growled, giving you one last warning look before he was disappearing out of your bedroom door. Shoulders stiff with tension. Fists clenched in anger. But you suspected it wasn't - at least entirely - about you challenging him.

It occurred to you for the first time that maybe you weren't the only one still struggling with your conversation from earlier. Kylo told you that Poe's actions had led to him losing someone he cared about. Talking about the attack and the organization who caused it had to have brought up some painful memories for him, too. As betrayed and angry as you felt, was it really such a stretch to think he wasn't in the best place, either? No matter how much he might pretend like he didn't a few human moments, too.

Sighing, you opted not to further agitate the situation. You weren't going full Stockholm and sympathizing with Kylo, but picking your battles seemed like a necessary evil for the night.

After turning off the overhead light and clicking on the bedside lamp next to the side of the bed you typically slept on - God forbid you not light the way for the angry assassin to come back to you - you climbed under the covers, getting comfortable against the pillows on your side.

In the quiet it was easy for exhaustion to creep back in. You spent a few minutes focused on your breathing, forcing your overactive mind to start shutting down. Not an easy task considering everything that had happened, but after a while you felt your eyelids growing heavier until they closed, refusing to open again.

You were nearly asleep when you felt a slight dip in the mattress. Distantly you felt his arm drape over you, looping around your ribcage before he pulled you back against his chest. That sharp, musky scent enveloped you. You felt his hand gently brush your hair to the side so he could press his lips against your bare shoulder. Having him so close began to unleash a fresh wave of nerves, but the tightening of his arm around you was oddly comforting, as if he could block out the anxieties that might have otherwise pulled you from sleep. "Just relax, princess. You're safe." he murmured in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd ever be able to believe that coming from him, but you drifted off to sleep in his arms all the same.

***********************

_"Dad! Look! I found another one!"_

_It was easily the dozenth time he'd heard that exact same exclamation over the exact same shells on the exact same beach, but Alexander's excitement hadn't dimmed in the slightest. Too joyful to care that he had an entire bucket full of little trinkets that were almost an exact replica of what he held in his tiny fist, he came barreling towards him. His grin was infectious, nearly ear to ear. Kylo knelt down to examine it, but in his excitement Alexander crashed into him at full speed, sending them both to the wet sand beneath them._

_It was impossible not to laugh. At one time in his life he couldn't imagine thinking that, being so consumed by darkness. By the ugliness of that had become routine. When he'd seen children and their parents before it was just a vague picture, a nice thought, but ultimately foreign. It wasn't until he felt his son's first kick, his palm pressed over Rey's swollen belly, that he understood how incredible life could be._

_Dusting the sand from his hair as he propped himself up on his elbow, he smiled down at his son, sprawled across his chest still laughing, "Remind me to buy a helmet." he teased. Sitting up, he pulled the boy up with him, situating on his lap as he marveled at the myriad of colors imprinted in the back of the seashell. His jeans would be soaked through by the time they got up, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "That's a nice one, Zander. Where did you find it?"_

_"In the water. All the best ones are there, they roll away, though. But I'm really fast so I caught this one." Alexander explained, as serious as a theologian in his methods of seashell hunting. He'd just turned four a few weeks ago, the world was just beginning to open up for him. Kylo hoped this would be one of the memories that stuck with him as he grew. They'd had what could only be described as the perfect day; bike riding, a trip to the pier, swimming, a picnic lunch, and now hunting for 'buried treasure'. Whether it remained in son's memory, he knew it would always be in his. Days like this didn't come often for men like him._

_Tousling the boy's hair, Kylo smiled in agreement, "You are fast. Maybe some day you can learn to sail a boat and go find treasure all over the world." For the last few months Alexander had been obsessed with pirates. Eyepatches and toy swords had been mandatory at his birthday. He demanded to listen to the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks in the car even though he was too young to see the movies. Now he was working on Rey to allow him a pirate ship bed. She wanted to wait until they were certain it wasn't just a phase he would grow out of first, but it was only a matter of time until she caved. She was a good mother. No matter what had become of their relationship, he would always be glad she was Zander's mom._

_"You'll come with me, right dad? To help me fight the other pirates?" Alexander questioned innocently, just a child unable to comprehend there would come a day when he didn't want his father coming on his adventures._

_To Kylo, it was one of the greatest moments of his life. "Of course I will. I'll always be there to protect you."_   
  
  


You woke to his shifting limbs and uneven breath. Prying your heavy eyes open you caught sight of the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just after 2:00 in the morning.

The first thing you noticed - and missed - was the warmth of his arm around you. The comforting presence of his chest pressed against you back. He'd rolled on to his back in his sleep. From the looks of his pinched brows and sweat dampened hair, he was having a dream. Maybe a nightmare. His hands twitched on the bed beside him, always as reaching for something. He mumbled something incoherently, and while you couldn't make out the words, the pain in them was evident.

Sitting up, you tentatively reached out to him, your fingertips brushing against his shoulder.

Even though you'd been sure he was in a deep sleep, his hand shot out and locked around your wrist before his eyes even opened. "What's wrong?" he demanded quietly, gaze moving from you to scope out the room as if expecting some immediate threat. When he found none, he looked back at you, confused.

"You were...having a nightmare, I think?" You didn't intend for it to come out as a question, but the intensity with which he'd responded made you edgy. From someone else it might have been an overreaction, but you knew enough about his life to know he probably didn't end up such a light sleeper for no reason. "You seemed upset."

Unmistakable agony flashed briefly in the depths of his gaze, something cutting and deep, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Disguised and covered up with a tired exhale. He released your wrist apologetically before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you up." When his hand fell back to his side you could see he was doing everything in his power to shut his emotions off. Or at the very least keep them hidden from you.

You chewed on your lower lip for a moment, indecisive. The two of you barely knew each other. It wasn't unreasonable to think he dealt with all sorts of pain and trauma that you knew nothing about. And it wasn't like it was a requirement that he tell you. But you felt for him nonetheless, even if he wished you would ignore it. "If you wanted to talk about it, I'd listen." you offered quietly, risking a glance in his direction.

You weren't sure what you expected - maybe irritation or anger - but he offered you a guarded, but grateful look, "Someday. But not tonight."

You nodded, able to accept that. But not able to just ignore the haunted look in his tired eyes and just go back to bed. Tossing the covers back you swung your legs over the side of the bed, shuffling your bare feet into your slippers. "I'm going to go make you some tea." You'd found a blend after the accident that had worked wonders for you, granting you at least a few hours of sleep at night so you could function.

He said something about it not being necessary, but you were already padding down the darkened hallway.

The moon glowed brightly enough through the window in the kitchen you didn't bother turning the lights on, figuring it would be easier to go back to bed if your eyes hadn't adjusted. You grabbed the kettle from the stove and walked over to the sink, filling it enough to make two mugs.

That was when you felt it.

A sense of deja vu. That sinister crawl across your skin. Only this time it wasn't Kylo. Somehow you just knew it. You were too attuned to him.

Kettle in hand, you swung your arm back as hard as you could, feeling both grim satisfaction and terror when your hand connected with a cheek. A curse of pain greeted you as you whirled around, coming face to face - well, more like face to chest - with an unfamiliar man dressed in all dark colors. His blue eyes were wide - seemingly both shocked and angry.

Not wasting the opportunity, you swung the kettle at him again, sloshing water all over him but he managed to dodge the blow before rippling the kettle out of your hand, tossing it to the side. "KY-" Your scream was cut off abruptly by a hand slapping over your mouth, an arm wrapping around you and lifting your feet off the floor. Terror pounded in your veins but you found this time you were able to think more clearly. Thanks to Kylo, this wasn't your first break in.

You sank your teeth into the hand over your mouth as hard as you could, not relenting until it jerked away. Your legs flailed, missing the man with the blue eyes in front of you, but connecting with the knee of the one holding you. "Shit! Would you stop it!"

"What the fuck are you two assholes doing?"

You could have cried in relief hearing Kylo's voice. You looked towards the doorway as he turned the lights on, illuminating the kitchen. While he was clearly furious...he also looked too calm. He looked between the two men, demanding an explanation before they settled on the one still holding you in the air against his chest, "Take your fucking hands off her. Now." he snarled, for a moment looking so truly terrifying even you would have cowered away...and you were supposedly the one he was trying to help.

In a flash you were back on your feet, backing quickly away from the two men who in the light looked sheepish rather than menacing. When you were close enough Kylo took your hand, tugging you to his side. You didn't fight him this time. Admittedly you'd rather be with the murderer you knew.

"She tried to behead me with a pot." The first one said with a shrug, reaching up to wipe the blood off his cheek where you'd struck him. Rather than being upset when he brought his hand back down, he looked impressed, shooting you a grin, "Nice job."

You felt your jaw drop slightly; was he seriously congratulating you on assaulting him? Turning to Kylo you nodded to your unwelcome guests, "Who the hell are they and why are they in my house?"

After shooting another icy glare at the one you'd hit, he glanced down at you, "Two of my Knights. They handle security. Though it's supposed to be unobtrusively," he said pointedly, turning back to them, reminding them they still hadn't given him an explanation. "Forgive their lack of job effectiveness, angel. This is Trudgen and Vicrul."

The one who'd grabbed you, Trudgen, offered a polite nod. The other one, Vicrul, grinned even wider. "Nice to meet you, Angel."

"That's not her name."

"Get out of my house, Vincent." You and Kylo spoke at the same time. He seemed a little surprised at your less-than-friendly tone, but it quickly melted into amusement. He squeezed your hand affectionately before turning back to his 'Knights', a much less jovial expression darkening his features. "You're supposed to stay out of sight."

Vicrul, looking slightly annoyed at being called by the wrong name, shrugged again, "I heard noises, came to check it out. She tried to send me to my ancestors with a fucking teapot."

"I heard him getting his ass beat." Trudgen said solemnly, though there was a hint of humor in his dark eyes. So dark brown they were almost black. His hair was almost the same shade of black as Kylo's, but significantly shorter and styled neatly. If you'd seen him on the street you probably could have confused him for a banker.

"We're just doing our jobs." Vicrul concluded. He, unlike the other two, was much lighter in appearance. In the light you could appreciate the pretty blue color of his eyes, somewhere between sapphire and azure. He had messy, dark copper colored hair that was still wet from the kettle incident. You thought you could see a dimple in his right cheek. Were he not an asshole, you might have called him hot.

"Fascinating as this is," you interrupted, having entirely lost interest in making tea - especially considering Kylo was apparently letting his 'security' crew have the run of your house when you were sleeping - you disentangled your hand from Kylo's, "I'm going back to bed." You had to be up for work in less than four hours. "There's a mop in the pantry." you remarked pointedly to all of them, glancing at the mess left behind by the kettle still laying abandoned on the tile floor before turning and walking out of the kitchen, shaking your head.

This was what you got for being nice.

"Sweet dreams, _Angel_!" Vicrul called after you. You heard the shuffle of feet and something hitting the floor. Hopefully someone threw something at him.

"Have fun cleaning, _Victor_." you called back irritably.

*****************

**(** Kylo **)**  
 **(** a/n; switching to she/her for Kylo's POV **)**

When his phone vibrated in his pocket a few hours later, he woke feeling energetic despite the interruptions. He was used to getting by on minimal sleep, staying awake too long, and relying on rogue surges of adrenaline to keep him alive. But talking about the attack, about Alexander, never failed to exhaust him. It had been more than a year but the wound was still fresh, and every time he ripped it open it came with consequences.

Sometimes it was in the form of panic attacks, waking and thinking he was still back there with the smoke and dust filling his lungs, his hands coated in blood and dirt from desperately trying to dig through the debris. Refusing to believe his boy was gone while the news reports played in the back of his head over and over again.

_...an explosion that engulfed the De Monte is to blame for at least fifty seven injuries this afternoon. All seventy eight people inside the hotel at the time of the explosion are believed to be deceased...._

Last night had been both a gift and the cruelest of punishments. Reliving that day on the beach had been worth the pain he had to endure after. Getting to hear his laugh, feel his warm little palm against his own, he would have done it over and over again if he could. But waking to realize he would never experience those things again, never get to see his son grow into the man he was meant to be...ripping his heart out of his chest would have been less agonizing.

Yet...

As acutely as he felt the the blade of that dagger plunging into him, having _her_ there helped. It didn't completely diminish it, but feeling her reach for him, seeing the concern in her eyes was something he never would have expected. And now that he had, it made him all the more sure he couldn't let her go. Speaking of her...

Glancing down, he felt a surge of contentedness at the sight of her sleeping form, draped over his chest. When he'd finally finished dealing with Trudgen and Vicrul the night before and come back to the bedroom she'd already been peacefully asleep again. Not wanting to wake her after the late night intrusion, he'd let her be. Seems she wasn't quite as fond of distance from his as she'd claimed. At some point in the night she'd not only turned towards him, but he could feel every inch of her pressed against his side; her head resting on his shoulder, a hand splayed on his chest, a leg thrown over his.

When she wasn't ruled by guilt and a misguided moral compass, she couldn't get close enough.

Under any other circumstances he would have gladly taken advantage of such a tempting start to the morning, be he was already half an hour late for training.

Resisting the urge to groan in frustration, he bent and pressed his lips to the top of her head before beginning the process of disentangling himself with as little disturbance to her as possible.

Which would have been made significantly easier if her hand hadn't dropped to his side, holding on to him. Was she _trying_ to kill him? "I'm going to remind you of this later when you're back to hating me," he threatened dryly as he lifted her arm and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

She curled into the pillows, reminding him of a sleepy kitten. Was it vain to think she was already missing him?

Once on his feet he pulled the comforter a little tighter around her before kissing her forehead. She mumbled something tiredly, nearly inaudibly. Whatever it was, it sounded as **content** as he'd felt.

He dressed quickly, continuing to ignore the string of texts asking for his whereabouts. Tossing his bag over his shoulder he forced himself to leave her room, trying not to think of the warm bed he'd rather be in, turning those sleepy whines into moans.

*****************

"Would someone else go a few rounds with this animal?" Ushar grunted out, breathing labored. His face hadn't even completed healed from their last encounter, but the moment the Knights saw Kylo storm into the gym looking like fury come to life no one had been lining up to spar with him. After warming up and weight exercises the others had inconspicuously disappeared just long enough to avoid being stuck stick-fighting with their deadlier-than-usual leader.

That content glow Kylo had woken up under had since dissipated; without her warm little body pressed against him it was significantly easier to get back to business. 

They had a number of upcoming jobs, not just those they'd taken on for the hefty payouts, but a few more leads on the list. The list of everyone from the lowly foot soldiers to the top of the totem pole who'd been responsible for the attack. It was growing shorter all the time. Which is essence was a good thing, he wasn't planning on stopping until every last one of them were forgotten in the dirt like the _fifth_ they were. But it was apparent that word had spread to the higher ups everyone involved was being systematically eliminated; most of them in ways so grotesque the regular news outlets couldn't even begin to describe it.   
  
He could still remember the panicked screams of the one they shoved through the meat grinder limb by limb. 

More and more of their targets were going into hiding and off the grid, making it difficult if not near impossible to track them. He had the hackers working on it round the clock, but it was a slow process. Especially with the feds interfering. His blood boiled just thinking about the two who'd been assigned to her. How little they'd told her under the guise of confidentiality when really they were just trying to protect the swines in their own backyard who were just as culpable. Not with that one particular attack, but with the organization itself. 

But no one could hide forever. 

Ignoring Ushar's breathless commentary they began circling one another again, knowing each other's styles so well the only way there was ever a victor was when they got creative. Instead of immediately going on the defensive he was hesitant, watching Ushar try and figure out his strategy. The blood running from his nose down to his chin didn't seem to register; in terms of injury it didn't even make the top twenty of what he'd ended up with over the years. 

Holding their staffs at the ready they began sparring again, artfully dodging hits and reciprocating with skill counter attacks. It was rare that they'd be forced to fight with crude weapons during a job - assault weapons, grenades, night vision goggles, and hidden daggers were their norms - but Kylo wanted them all prepared for anything. They needed to stay sharp. Vigilant. Anything could go wrong no matter how carefully they planned, and any of them could die no matter how good they were. 

Though they'd all come from somewhat different backgrounds, what they shared in common was the desire for freedom, and the determination to be more than a number. Better than expendable. Kylo may not have been the most conventional or expressive person, but the least he could do for his Knights was give them something better than the hellhole they'd all dug their way out of. 

An interesting sentiment considering he was working on demolishing Ushar. 

The sharp slaps of the staffs cracking against one another echoed around them. The other Knights had paused from their own matches to watch, curious to see the outcome. 

Drenched in sweat and breathing hard they continued coming at one another, exchanging blows the adrenaline kept them from feeling. Ushar landed a blow, but Kylo twisted at the last second, catching the hit from the stick on his thigh instead of the back of his knee. Spinning back around he swung his staff back and brought it forward, using the momentum to bring one end crashing into the weakest point of Ushar's ankle. He fell, hitting the mat hard, and Kylo drew his staff to his throat, applying just enough pressure to make a point. 

In a real fight, Ushar's jugular would have already been split open. 

Instead, he gave an irritated grunt and slapped the mat in defeat, "Fuck you!" he shoved the staff away from his throat though stayed down, trying to catch his breath, "Give me a minute and then we're going again." 

"Much as I'd like to wipe the floor with you again," Kylo grunted back, struggling to even out his own breathing as he offered Ushar a hand, "we need to finish planning the Berlin job and get the wheels turning on New Orleans. The hackers have new information. You can kick Vicrul's ass later." he promised. 

Ushar, happy with that alternative, took his hand and rose to his feet. 

"Let me guess, you're spending the night with Angel again?" Vicrul commented with a smirk as they headed towards the table where they'd left water bottles and gym bags. 

"I told you that's not her name," Kylo rolled his eyes, taking a long drink from his jug. Fighting a smile when he caught sight of the scratch on Vicrul's cheek from the tea kettle. He was still impressed his girl had managed to do that. Granted Vicrul went in knowing if he hurt so much as a hair on her head he'd end up skinned alive, but he liked knowing she wanted to fight back. Ironically enough he was the cause of her determination not to be a victim; but he chose not to focus too closely on the details. 

After taking a swig from his own bottle Vicrul gave him that same taunting smirk that left Kylo wishing he'd just gone a few rounds with his mug instead of Ushar's. "That's what you called her." 

"She's mine, I can call her whatever the fuck I want." He responded plainly, offering a fleeting, insincere smile that hinted at his irritation rising to a dangerously high level. "Stop talking before I break that _thing_ you call a face." He advised darkly before grabbing his bag and heading towards the locker room. 

****************

"Dan has been up my ass about getting him these pages but he just doesn't understand that quality work takes time. I'm not a detective, I have to do research. Everyone's a critic these days, you get one thing wrong and you get crucified!" Georgia, one of your publishing company's rising stars, and recent friend, gushed excitedly as she picked at her salad. Though she often complained about the amount of stress Dan, another editor, put on her to finish her second book, you knew it was a system that ultimately worked well for the two of them. Georgia was passionate and creative and a gifted author, but she lacked focus. Easily distracted and always going off on rabbit trails. Dan's no nonsense approach was a good balance. 

It also allowed the two of you to be friends thanks to the lack of conflict of interest. 

"Dan knows how hard you work. He's just trying to keep you motivated so you stay on track for your release next year." you reasoned before taking a bite of your chicken wrap. Thanks to your interrupted dinner the night before and hitting the snooze button one too many times that morning to make up for your late night house guests visit, you were ravenous. 

You'd been trying to keep your personal life from your thoughts all day. They'd already proven to be a deterrent from work, and you had way too much to do to allow yourself another day of gazing off into the distance at your desk. 

But now that you were at lunch and mostly caught up on your to-do list, anxiety had begun to creep back in. 

You had to do something about Kylo. 

No matter your attraction to him - attraction, by the way, that you would admit to him only over your cold dead body - you couldn't just accept his presence in your life. Or rather, the way he forced himself into it. Living under the continual threat to the safety of your loved ones and anyone else who might stumble into his path wasn't sustainable. Nor was having your home invaded by his guards. 

The thought of them creeping around your property, in your _home_ still sent chills down your spine. All of the security measures that you'd taken had apparently been laughably inefficient. Had any of them wished you harm you'd already be dead. And even though you knew they didn't - or you were at least about 85% sure - these weren't average men. They were wanted around the globe. They had enemies. You couldn't just sit back and let that in your life. If not for your own sake, than for that of your loved ones. 

Which left you with only one option; you had to find a way to force Kylo out. Admittedly your options weren't great. You knew he was watching you. If you tried to contact the FBI or even West or Dommer there was a very good chance he would know. And then who would pay the price? Your friends? Your parents? No. You couldn't take that risk. Besides, Kylo clearly didn't fear their authority. He'd been evading them for years, why should he? 

This left you to consider less...traditional means. And ironically enough it was Kylo who gave you the idea. When you'd come out of the bathroom to find him typing away on his phone it occurred to you that could be the answer your theoretical prayers. Surely that phone held all kinds of secrets. Secrets that he wouldn't want falling into the wrong hands. If you could find some way to get into his phone you might be able to blackmail him right out of your life. 

It was far from a fool proof plan, hopefully it carried the least amount of risk. 

Lost in thought, it occurred to you a few moments too late that you'd zoned out while Georgia had begun talking again. Heat flushed your cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice you hadn't been paying attention, "...that's when the detective realizes his partner slipped diazepam in his coffee." 

"Diazepam, huh?" you repeated, trying to integrate yourself back into the conversation. When you were going to stop spacing out thinking about Kylo? 

She nodded eagerly, "Not like a lethal dose or anything, just enough to keep him down long enough for her to go after the killer alone. My sister even gave me some of her Valium so I could describe it. Don't worry, I won't take it." she said teasingly, though you weren't really sure you believed her. 

Inadvertently, Georgia may have just given you the answer your problems. 

***************

_I wanna get in trouble  
I wanna start a fight  
Na-na-na-na, na-na, na  
I wanna start a fight  
Na-na-na-na, na-na, na  
I wanna start a fight!_

_So, so what?  
I'm still a rock star  
I got my rock moves  
And I don't need you  
And guess what?  
I'm having more fun  
And now that we're done  
I'm gonna show you tonight  
(a/n; lyrics from'So What' by P!nk)_

Your phone buzzed with the notification that the backdoor of the house had closed just about the time you saw Kylo round the corner into the kitchen, leaning against the frame and watching you with a raised brow. 

You'd gotten home only half an hour before, rushing to put your plan into motion. Even if you hadn't assumed Kylo would return yet again, he'd sent a text a little earlier in the afternoon asking you if you had any requests for dinner. Who knew assassins were so considerate? Rather than responding with your preferences, you told him you would handle dinner. Since you had other things to arrange for the evening - and food was the last thing on your mind - you'd stopped at a local bistro and picked up take out. The chef's special along with a bottle of their recommended wine. 

Hopefully it paired well with Diazepam. 

In an effort to divert suspicion you turned on Pandora in the kitchen while you got all the food set out on to plates, swaying your hips with the music. You'd changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of white denim jeans and a racerback tank top, feet bare. Same way you would have any other night. 

Spinning around to go towards the sink to wash your hands, you pretended his sudden appearance startled you. He smirked. Hopefully buying that you were embarrassed to have him find you dancing around your kitchen. "You know the doorbell works, right?" you greeted, busying yourself with washing some spilled sauce off your hands. 

"I prefer the back door," he called over the music, shoving away from the doorframe and coming closer to you. He stopped by the docking station on the counter to turn the volume down so it was just background noise. "Otherwise I might miss a show." 

Rolling your eyes you turned off the water and grabbed a paper towel, briskly drying your hands. _So far so good_. When you turned back you genuinely startled, finding him only inches away from you. Barefooted, you were reminded yet again of his impressive height. His size. You swallowed audibly as his fingers appeared below your chin, tilting your head up so he could press his lips against yours. 

You didn't pull away immediately. Not even for the sake of your plan...but because his touch, as always, felt _good_. His lips were soft and sensuous, capturing yours at first gently and then more urgently. The scratch of the facial hair he was letting grow in tickling your skin. His tongue tracing over your bottom lip, teasing access to your mouth. You felt his pleased smirk as what might have been a noise of protest quickly morphed to a mewl of pleasure. A hand snaked to the small of your back, pressing you closer.

When he pulled away - _he_ pulled away, not you - he held you a moment longer, the tenderness in his eyes almost making you regret what you had planned. Almost. It wasn't like you were going to hurt him. Or turn him over the cops. He would just sleep for a while, giving you a chance to gain access to his phone and find something you could use to hold over _his_ head. It was only fair. 

He started it.

"My sweet girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. From someone else it might have sounded demeaning, but he had a way of talking to you that somehow assured you you were actually important to him. "How was your day?"

It took you significantly longer than it should have to realize his hand had dropped from your back. There was nothing keeping you pressed against him. You stood there on your own accord. 

Clearing your throat you forced your unresponsive limbs into action, taking a step back towards the island. You'd already poured the wine. Added your 'secret ingredient' to his glass. You'd even gone as far as to let your leftover lipstick smudge on the rim of your glass so they wouldn't get mixed up. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I might be signing a new author by the end of the week, though." You picked up both glasses, offering him the untouched one as you took a sip from yours, hoping he would mirror your actions. 

While he took the glass, he didn't immediately take a sip. Curiosity was evident in his features, but it had nothing to do with the wine. "Is that so? What's the book about?" 

Was he actually interested in your work? You found it difficult to believe that someone like him, whose life was probably more interesting than any book on the shelf, could be fascinated by the day to day workings of your perfectly average job. But even if you wanted to, there was no doubting you had his full attention. It made you somewhat self conscious. Even Poe had never looked at you like that. "It's a murder mystery. Reminds me a little of Murder on the Orient Express but it's set in this remote resort lodge in the middle of a blizzard. The 'Whodunnits' are popular right now so people are capitalizing while they can, but I think the author could write any kind of fiction. He has a unique voice and he's driven." 

He followed along with you as you spoke, considering your explanation. Even as you returned to the task of getting your plates ready you could still sense him watching you. "Your authors must like you. You're invested in your work, more accurately, _their_ work. It must be nice for them to have someone in their corner who's so supportive." 

You paused, both plates in your hands. Did he have to be so _nice_? How was it that the same man who'd nearly drowned you in the same goddamn room, the man who put a bullet through the skull of someone who was the very definition of defenseless, could also make you feel so **valuable** just for doing your job? 

"Thank you..." you said slowly, automatically. Fighting a new wave of guilt that you promptly shoved down. You reminded yourself this wasn't about the way Kylo treated you, it was about the threat his presence posed to your life. Everyone around you, too. 

Making sure you had a good grip on the plates - no need for another mess in the kitchen, especially when Vicrul wasn't around with the mop - you headed towards the dining room, "Um, how was your day?" That was perfectly normal right? He asked about your day, it was only natural for you to ask about his. You heard his footsteps behind you, following you. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he repeated your sentiment, smiling slightly when you set the plates down and looked back at him. "I train with my Knights every day and then we have a multitude of tasks to do to prepare for various jobs." He pulled your chair out for you before you could grab it, waiting expectantly for you to sit down so he could tuck it in for you. "Trudgen and Vicrul send their apologies for last night. They didn't mean to scare you." 

You were almost thankful he'd brought them up, reminding you of your mission. Forcing you not to focus on the way he was looking at you, and instead on the fact that he'd brought both glasses of wine to the table. And he still hadn't touched his. Frustration burned silently within you. _Just take a sip..._

"How long have they been sneaking around my house?" you asked to keep the nervousness from your expression, but also because you genuinely wanted to know the answer. "The security system apparently didn't keep them out." Again to give yourself something else to focus on, you looked down at your plate. You couldn't have prepared something that looked that good. Seared salmon in a mushroom sauce with wild rice, asparagus, and wilted kale. It was healthier than what you typically ate, but it had been Kylo's recommendation after you texted him a copy of the menu. Speaking a stalk of asparagus you bit the top off, your cheeks warming when you realized how _intently_ he was watching your mouth. 

"Baby, getting past civilian security systems is child's play for us." he said gently. Almost pityingly, like he was surprised you hadn't figured that out. Maybe you should have. Seeming to want to make you feel better he took a bite of his salmon, seemingly savoring the taste before adding, "They typically don't come inside. They just keep an eye on things to make sure you're safe." 

You knew without asking their security habits wouldn't change even if you'd demanded it. Yet another reason to get a hold of his phone. He still had yet to touch his glass. You picked up your own and took another sip - admittedly it was delicious with the food - again hoping he would do the same. "Mmm." you hummed in response to his confession, wondering what else was 'child's play' for them. _Just drink the fucking wine!_

For a few long moments you both ate in silence. Undoubtedly more comfortably for him. You were growing more impatient by the second. You were anxious to get it over with, curious to know what you'd find, and now wondering how long you would have before his 'Knights' sowed up for guard duty. If they came inside again and found Kylo passed out at the table you were probably as good as dead. 

"Are they coming tonight?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but you were almost positive there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully he would chalk it up to discomfort with having strangers snooping around your property. 

Still chewing, he nodded once. Of course. "They'll be discreet." 

You took yet another sip from your glass, beginning to feel what would have been a pleasant buzz under different circumstances. Right now it was just a reminder that you were running out of time. You rose yours towards him in a toast, giving him a half-smile, "To discreetness." 

_Finally!_

Picking up his much-neglected glass, he returned your smile and tapped the rim of his glass to yours. 

Right before dumping the contents into the decorative wooden bowl at the center of the table. 

He cocked his head to the side, the smile slowly disappearing from his lips. His eyes narrowed dangerously, studying you the way a lion might a gazelle right before _striking_. "Did you _really_ think it would be that easy?" 

_Fuck_. 

Pure instinct took over. You had no idea what he had planned for you, but you knew better now than to stick around and see. Tearing away from the table, you bolted for the front door, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors. You heard a chair hit the floor behind you but you weren't sure if it was his or yours. 

Your fingertips just barely touched the doorknob when he caught up with you.

His arms wrapped around you in a vice-like grip, caging you to his chest. One arm across your shoulders, the other around your torso, squeezing painfully tight as he effortlessly lifted you up, your feet dangling off the ground. You didn't scream, though you doubted you could have anyway with the tightness of his grip. You clawed at his arms around you, but it didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. 

"I was hoping you'd run," he murmured in your ear, chuckling when you flinched from his breath tickling your skin. You could feel the _anger_ in his grip. The danger in the potential of what he could do to you. Especially if he thought you'd been trying to poison him. "It never fails to amuse me that you think you'll get away. Sssshhh. Stop that. Don't fight me, princess." Squeezing you even tighter amidst your attempts to free yourself, he carried you away from the door, down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

"Kylo, please, I wasn't trying to-" you protested, a note of panic in your voice as he finally set you down on your feet, though he kept his grip. The door slammed shut behind you, making you wince. 

"Kill me?" he finished for you. One of his arms disappeared long enough to lock the door behind you before locking securely across your shoulders again. "I know. Diazepam, right? I could smell it in the wine." The forced calm of his tone was more unsettling than if he'd yelled at you. You'd stilled in his grip, save for a trembling you couldn't control, feeling the futility of it. You flinched at the feeling of his kiss on the top of your head, "You're shaking. Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" 

The way he asked it, that silky, deceptive murmur, you had no trouble at all believing he would hurt you. He _had_ hurt you before, you knew he was capable of it. 

The question was, why did you feel just as much _anticipation_ as you did fear?

"Should I be?" you managed to choke out, knowing you were playing with fire just by asking. 

His answering chuckle was deep, humorless, and **knowing**. Like he could _smell_ your arousal already. "You've been a bad girl," his lips reappeared at your ear, making you shudder as he nudged you towards the bed, "and bad girls need to be _punished_."

****************

**(** a/n **)**

* _giggles_ * would ya look at that, we're in danger again. 

Needless to say, expect NSWF content next chapter. 

**Please comment/vote/let me know you thought?**

Thank you for reading! <3


	7. Reality of the Situation

**_TWs;_** _dub-con, smut, breath play, non-consensual use of a gag, orgasm denial, mentions of terrorism and death._

"Strip." 

He had, mercifully, released you. Well, more like dropped you on to your bed and told you not to move while he went to go retrieve his bag. When he returned only a few moments later he'd shut and locked the door again while you slowly, cautiously rose to your feet. You thought he would object, but he seemed to have other things in mind. 

Dropping the bag on to your dresser, his gaze never left you. Though he stood several feet away now, you felt just as paralyzed as when he was holding you captive against his chest. You could still sense the anger, the _violence_ rolling off him in waves. That unbridled fury that he worked so hard to keep hidden when he was playing civilian with you was coming apart at the seams. 

When you didn't immediately respond, he sighed deeply. Patience wearing thin. His dark amber colored eyes seemed darker still in the low light, almost black. " _Strip_. Now, pet. I want you naked." Taking a step towards you that you immediately mirrored backwards, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Threateningly. "Do you need me to do it for you?" 

Though you felt anything but confident, you held your ground on unsteady feet. His being furious or not hadn't changed anything. The fact that you'd gotten caught trying to change the rules of a game you didn't want to play didn't diminish your desire to find level ground to stand on. "And then what?" You flinched at the cold ferocity you faced, but you forced yourself to keep going, "Seriously, Kylo. I'm not going to keep playing some bizarre version of house with you. You've threatened everyone I care about to keep your secrets and I've done that; but that **doesn't** include giving you control over my life. Or anything _else_ you can't seem to keep your hands off of." 

At least you sounded more confident than you felt. On the inside you felt like you were milliseconds away from disintegrating under the baleful expression on his face. Should you have taken it as a good sign that he hadn't killed you yet? Or was he just _playing_ with his food?

When he finally spoke, it was in a tone so falsely harmless it sent chills up your spine. It was quiet. Reserved. Not rising to your bait yet somehow transparently livid. "I can see now in my efforts not to break you, I've been too lax. Would you like me to explain the reality of your situation to you, pet, so there's no further **misunderstanding**?" 

How he managed to make such a mundane word sound life-altering was beyond you, but nonetheless you found yourself nodding silently. 

In two long strides he crossed the distance between you, shoving you unceremoniously back on the bed. He climbed on top of you before you could move so much as an inch, straddling you beneath him. His hands caught your wrists, roughly pinning them down to the mattress on either side of your head. He rested just enough of his weight on you to keep you from squirming too much. His legs effortlessly restraining yours. "Much better," he taunted, his grip on your wrists tightening to being just shy of painful. "Do you know what would have happened if your little plan had worked?"

You shook your head. Unfortunately you hadn't given much thought to what would come after, you'd been too focused on just trying to get it to _work_. 

"My Knights monitor my vitals," his gaze swiveled towards a slim, plain looking metal bracelet on his wrist before returning to yours, "they would have known the second my heartrate slowed to an unusual pace and broken in easier than you'll ever know. At which point they would have drug my unconscious body out of your house in case you'd done something stupid and called and the feds. They also would have drug _you_ out with them, and when I woke from the unplanned nap we would be on a flight to one of my other safehouses where freedom would become nothing more than a fond memory for you." 

It was as sobering as it was unnerving to realize he'd planned for this. That his guards had a protocol in place. And that the price for any betrayal on your part had already been set; your life. Not in the mortal sense as you'd been thinking, but instead removing you from everything that made life worth living. 

Seeing the wheels turning in your head, a short lived smile graced his lips, "The freedom I've allowed you so far - to continue seeing your loved ones, go to work, stay in this house - can be taken away at a moment's notice. I want you to be happy, baby. That's why we have the arrangement we do. But if you can't cooperate, I'll be forced to make adjustments." 

"Adjustments?" you repeated, barely able to choke the word out between the anger and fear floating dizzyingly around inside your head. Despite knowing he had so easily overpowered you, you still jerked your wrists in an attempt to free them, feeling the pit in your stomach widen when he didn't budge. "So that's it? I do something you don't like and you take me from my life?" 

"I could have taken you that first night, you know. You could have just as easily woken up my prisoner. And your little friends at the FBI wouldn't have batted an eyelash. You would have been recorded as yet another casualty of the 'vicious assassin' they don't even know the name of. I could go get that 'special' wine right now, force every drop of it down your throat, and take you anywhere I wanted and you, and they, would _still_ be powerless to stop me." The way he so seamlessly described what could have been, what he could still do only reinforced the realization that this wasn't a random occurrence of events. He wasn't improvising. In fact you wondered how close he'd come to making good on that threat. How serious he was about delivering on it now. 

While you tried to make sense of the sickening reality check, he occupied himself with kissing your neck. The gentle scrape of his teeth against your skin eliciting a stifled moan. Even terrified and furious you still couldn't force your body _not_ to respond to him. "So why haven't you done it?" you asked, more to distract yourself from his tongue on your neck than actually wanting to know the answer. 

His warm breath ghosted across your throat at his chuckle. Rising up again he raised an eyebrow at you, "Is that a challenge? Do you want me to take you away?" The idea of being drug out off your home and stolen from everything and everyone you loved was a horrific thought...but much as you hated yourself for the truth of it, you didn't dread the idea of going away with him **nearly** as much. 

Mustering a glare, you tried again to free one of your legs so you could attempt to kick him, but being trapped beneath him wasn't unlike being stuck under a steel beam. "Of course I don't. But I have to wonder why if it's so easy for you to do whatever you want, and I just broke one of your made up rules..." you trailed off, letting your question hang in the air. Maybe you were challenging him. At the very least, you were tired of trying to play the game when only he knew the rules. 

"For one, because I'm going to punish you, and the jet is only so big." His casual delivery of his intentions had your palms slick with sweat. Did you really think he was going to forget about that? Seeing the alarm in your eyes his lips twitched in amusement before going on, "For another, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. You're scared. And you clearly weren't trying to kill me." He shook his head when you attempted to interrupt and explain your motivations. He gave your wrists a light squeeze, "Ah, ah, ah. There will be time for apologies later. Now," in one lithe move he released you and shoved away from the bed, returning to the dresser where he'd left that mysterious bag, "do what I asked and strip." 

For a solid few seconds you continued to lay there, studying the ceiling of your bedroom, weighing your options. At this point, you didn't have many. You'd just gotten a full length lecture on the consequences of not obeying him. You'd tried running. Any further act of defiance could easily cost you dearly. Even though your legs felt like they'd liquified at the thought of whatever he had planned for you, the alternative, you'd now been assured, wasn't any better. 

With tremendous reluctance you finally slid to the edge of the bed, gingerly returning your bare feet to the carpet. Grabbing the hem of your top with shaky hands, you pulled it over your head and laid it down on the bed next to you. Standing back up you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, glancing towards Kylo but his back was still turned as he sorted through the bag. 

By the time he tuned back your bra was lying on the floor next to you and you'd just stepped out off your dark purple lace panties. You might have been more distracted with the pure, undisguised hunger in his eyes were it not for the pair of thick leather cuffs in his hands. 

Wordlessly, he beckoned you closer, crooking his finger, all hints of his earlier smirk gone. Apparently he took punishment seriously. Swallowing the lump in your throat you padded across the room, stopping a little over a foot away from him. You had little reason to be shy around him, especially after the night you spent with him in the hotel, but there was a different energy in the air now. It was charged, fueled with some darker emotion. The other night had been about pleasuring you. 

Tonight was the opposite. 

Reaching out - still holding your gaze - he grabbed your right wrist, somehow managing to buckle it tightly without ever looking down. Clearly he'd done this before. You winced as he repeated the process with your other wrist, dropping them both as soon as they were secure. A short chain linked the two cuffs, preventing you from reaching the buckles with your fingers. You probably could have gotten them off with your teeth, but you sincerely doubted you'd be awarded the opportunity.

"Go to your bathroom and wait for me, I'll be there in a second." Not waiting for your assent, or lack thereof, he turned back to the dresser. 

Still battling your summersaulting stomach, you obliged again, crossing the short expanse of space between the bedroom and bathroom. Lifting your cuffed hands you flipped on the light - more out of habit than anything else - coming to a stop in front of the counter. You tried to ignore your reflection, but even averting your gaze you could see the flush to your skin. 

Your wait - thankfully or unfortunately - wasn't a long one. You watched Kylo step into the bathroom through the mirror, trying to ignore that he'd stripped down to his black boxers. His barely contained erection only just concealed by the thin fabric. 

Of course if that hadn't captured your attention, what he held in his hands would have. Setting the bundle down on the counter he grabbed your upper arm as you moved to take a step away. Jerking you to his chest, he pressed your stomach against the edge of the counter, leaning into you, keeping you pinned there. His hard length pressing into your backside. You met his gaze in the mirror, "My princess," he murmured, eyes gleaming at you in the mirror, "always trying to escape her tower."

Once he seemed confident you either couldn't or weren't going anywhere, he reached around you to the small group of things he'd brought with him. You looked at him in disbelief as he held up a dildo gag to your lips, "Open." he demanded quietly, waiting expectantly for your compliance. 

If he seriously thought you were going to consent to being gagged after his slew of threats to your freedom, he was crazier than you thought. "You're not se-" 

Your question was abruptly brought to an end by his mercilessly forcing the gag in your mouth, seemingly unbothered by the way you choked against the length of it going down your throat. The rubbery taste of silicone coated your tongue. He tightened the strap securely at the back of your head, "If I were you, I'd focus on _breathing_ instead of running your mouth." 

As you struggled to adjust to the uncomfortable sensation he reached for something else. Holding them up you realized what they were; nipple clamps. Ignoring your muffled protests he captured your right breast in his large palm, kneading the supple flesh before his thumb and index finger slipped down to pinch your hardening nipple. Attaching the clamp a growl of approval sounded in his throat at your quiet whimper. He tightened the pin a few notches before moving on to your other breast, deftly repeating the process. A thin chain connected the two clamps that hung part of the way down your abdomen, the cold metal tickling your skin. He gave it a light tug, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core, that odd mix of pain and pleasure overriding your senses.

Finished with his task, you felt his knee move between your legs, wordlessly urging you to spread them wider. You reluctantly followed his guidance, still battling between fear and desire. A part of you, maybe a naïve part, didn't think he intended to genuinely harm you. Another part, the one that could sense the **violence** in his hands, wasn't sure he had the control not to whether he intended it not. 

You flinched when he grabbed the chain connecting the cuffs on your wrists, lifting them up and dropping them on the faucet of the sink. "In case you need something to hold on to." he explained darkly, a hand disappearing to pull his boxers down and out of the way. You felt the motion of his hand stroking his length before you felt the tip of his cock poised at your slickening entrance. His gaze found yours again in the reflection of the mirror. "You're not cumming tonight." 

It should have been a given that you didn't want to. Instead you found yourself fighting a wave of disappointment at the thought. Frustration already building. Your body ached for him, for the release you knew he could offer even if being so vulnerable around him still terrified you. and truly, _were_ you terrified? Anxious, definitely. Nervous, without a doubt. But genuinely scared? 

Would you have give the smallest of nods to him if you were, signaling the consent he was silently asking for? 

It was almost a relief when he slipped inside you, taking your mind off the complicated realities you weren't quite ready to face. Your muffled moan turned to a gag on the dildo in your mouth. He gave you little time to adjust to his massive length, your walls struggling to stretch with him, "You're so fucking tight," he grunted out as he began moving, first slowly, and then at a steadier pace, creating the friction you were so desperate for. You flinched when the chain on the clamps caught on the edge of the counter, pulling against your throbbing nipples. "That's nothing compared to how it feels when they come off." 

Your breaths came loudly, unevenly through your nose, hands latched on to the cool metal of the faucet as he continued to slam into you, your hips grinding into the unforgiving edge of the counter. His into your ass, one hand digging into your waist, the other latched on to the nape of your neck. Tension built low in your belly, you could feel yourself building despite his promise you wouldn't be cumming. 

A startled mix of a gasp and a moan met the gag in your mouth as he roughly pulled out. In blur of movement he spun you around and lifted you up on to the counter, facing him, plunging back into your soaking, heated depths before you were even fully aware of what was happening. Your bound hands found their way to his chest, nails scraping his skin. Begging, pleading, **desperate**. His fingers captured your jaw, gaze locked on yours. The darkness in his eyes drew you in. "Eyes on me." he commanded. Your hands slid as if on their own accord towards your neglected clit, practically shaking to create the friction he'd denied you. But he batted them away, driving so deep you couldn't stop your groan of innate pleasure when he hit your g-spot. "Bad girls don't get to cum." he reminded you. 

For someone who didn't want you deriving pleasure from punishment, he was doing a pretty shitty job. 

You were so agonizingly close to the edge when he came, but a sharp, painful tug to the chain on the clamps distracted you enough to pull you back as he let out a guttural groan, his hot seed spilling inside you. His breath warm as his head came to rest on your shoulder. Bitter frustration flooded your veins as he stilled, clearly not intending to renege on his word. "Get in the shower. Hands over the showerhead." he panted against your skin. 

He stepped back just enough to allow you to slide gingerly off the counter, feeling slickness - yours and his - between your thighs, running down your leg. You paused, second guessing compliance, apparently just long enough to make him think you weren't going to cooperate. You heard the strike before you felt the sharp sting of his palm against your ass, making you jump. When you glanced back he rose a challenging brow, "Make me repeat myself again and we can easily stop so I can add spankings to your punishment." 

Not eager to partake in that particular experience you gladly took the opportunity for a few moments of distance and went into the walk-in shower. You shivered at the cold tiles against your bare feet as you moved closer to the shower head. Unsure of which direction to face you opted to raise your arms over your head, hooking them over the showerhead so that your back was pressed against the shower wall. The showerhead was mounted high enough that you nearly had to stand on the tips of your toes just to keep your balance. 

When Kylo stepped in a few moments later, somehow looking ready to go another round when your legs were still _shaking_. He paused mid-step, letting his stare drag across every inch of your body, completely unhurried. The carnal lust burning in those dark amber eyes was enough to make your skin flush again. Your thighs clenching, reminding you all too starkly of your unfulfilled need. 

"Oh, baby," he murmured, stepping closer until he towered over you, one hand coming to cup your blushing cheek, the other moving to first spread your legs wider, then to palm your heated, pulsing sex, his long middle finger dipping into you. Smirking at the way you arched your hips towards his touch. You were beyond caring if you should be more focused on self preservation. "So responsive. It's going to be torture not to cum when I fuck you this time. But you're going to be my good girl and take your punishment. Aren't you?" The pad of his thumb just barely brushed your clit as he tilted your chin up, expecting an answer. 

Managing a weak nod he inclined his head and pressed his lips against your gag, "Good girl. I like you quiet like this. I look forward to having this lush little pink mouth wrapped around my cock." 

_You_ shouldn't have been eager for that day. Maybe it was just from being teased so relentlessly but it wasn't dread that filled you at the thoughts. Your eyes subconsciously drifted down to his shaft again, already hardening as he pressed himself into your stomach, letting you feel _exactly_ what you did to him. A whine not entirely disguised by the gag echoed around you, eliciting another half-smirk from Kylo as he withdrew his hand from your sex, "You're going to be the death of me." 

You watched with baited breath as the hand on your cheek lowered to your breasts. Both his hands roughly massaged them, making you choke against the gag again with your moans. When his fingers drifted to the clamps your body tensed, anticipating the bite of pain. He hesitated only a moment before roughly pulling them away. It hurt worse than you thought it would, but before the cry of pain could even form his mouth was on your right nipple, sucking, licking your sensitive flesh. His free hand massaged your left one, easing some of the discomfort but building that pressure all over again you knew would be left unsatisfied. Your head tilted back at the sensation, as if your neck refused to support the weight. 

With a soft _bite_ that made you flinch he released you before his hand drifted back to his cock, guiding himself to your entrance again. He glided through your walls, your sex welcoming the intrusion, muscles relaxing to accommodate him. A hand drifted around your back, sliding down until you felt a finger slipping between your ass cheeks, slowly penetrating your ass as he begin thrusting into you. 

The overwhelming feeling of fullness consumed you. Only being able to breathe through your nose was leaving you partially lightheaded. Your fingers curved into _claws,_ twitching with need but now pulled above you couldn't sink them into his flesh. So torn between desperation for him to stop just to ease the tension or go harder and send you over the edge no matter the consequences you would have gladly screamed were it not for the gag. 

Feeling your walls gripping him tighter, knowing your release was only seconds away, he changed tactics. Reaching around you he turned the water on, letting the warm stream cascade over both of you. Under different circumstances it might have felt nice on your tired muscles, but instead it brought back the memory of that first night...the cloth over your face, the water in your lungs. 

Panic temporarily overrode the burning need within you, but when you tried to lean away from the water now working its way down your body and over your face he held you still, continuing at his punishing pace. His hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air supply for a few long moments, the intensity in your core battling your growing need for air. When he released you you struggled to breathe again. When you dared to look up at him, watching the water soak his jet black hair, you found a complete lack of mercy there before his hand was around your throat again, "This is what I wanted to do to you that night," he confessed, his mind having gone to the same place yours had. Black spots danced across your vision - though you could still feel yourself building _again._

Your eyes burned with the lack of air, water continuing to stream over you, choking you even when his hand drifted away to allow you a few seconds of breath. Your breathing had become labored, every exchange of oxygen wearing your body out. Yet at the same time that friction you so badly needed had your toes curling; each time he hit your g-spot your mind completely abandoned the fear of the water or his hand around your throat. 

Yet again when he came - and came _hard_ \- you were so **close** it drove you wild, your muffled scream of frustration mingling with his low groan of release, shooting his hot seed inside you once again, the hand on your throat weakening as he fought to catch his own breath. 

By the time he withdrew completely you were nearly crying with exhaustion. Overwhelmed with sensation, your skin still crawling with unmet need. Your throat raw from the gag. 

Silently, he grabbed the bar of soap an a washcloth from the shelf, first taking his time in washing himself off while you swayed underneath the spray of the shower before rinsing you off, being irritatingly careful when he washed between your legs not to send you that inch your body needed to find release. 

Your eyelids were heavy by the time he reached up and pulled your arms down. He removed one of the leather cuffs, but only so he could pull your arms behind your back instead before reattaching it to your wrist. 

He made quick work of drying you both off, leaving a towel wrapped around your body and hair before bending and tossing you over his shoulder. You didn't have the energy to resist as he carried you into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed on your side. You struggled to keep your eyes open as you watched him pick up a pair of cuffs he must have left out, clipping them around your ankles and running the extended chain around your footboard, ensuring you couldn't get up. 

Kylo sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, a towel still around his neck, water still dripping from his hair. You flinched as he pet your hair back, "I have some calls to make. I'll be back shortly, and then you're going to tell me exactly what you planned on doing tonight had your little science experiment worked." 

With a kiss to the side of your head he climbed to his feet, picking up the sweatpants he'd left out and sliding them on before disappearing out of your bedroom door. He was the last thing you saw before your eyes drifted closed, too tired to fight anymore. 

**************

When you woke it was to entirely different circumstances. The binds around your wrists were gone, though your arms were still stiff and sore. The gag was gone, allowing you to drag your tongue over your dry lips. When a water bottle appeared at your lips you greedily sucked some down, not even fully opening your eyes, "Easy, love. Slow sips." 

His voice shocked you back into reality. Prying your eyes apart you realized you were still in bed, but nestled against his side. He was reclined against the pillows, holding you up enough that you could take a few more sips of water. The towels were gone, but you had little reason to care that your naked breasts were pressed against him after what you'd just done. You shifted, trying to sit up a little more when you realized the cuffs were still secured around your ankles. Not threaded through the footboard anymore, but still attached. A sense of alarm crept back in; were you still being punished?

To your surprise and annoyance he chuckled, clearly having noticed your reaction, "Relax. I think you've been punished enough for one day." He lazily turned his head and kissed your stunned, numb lips affectionately, "I just like the way they look on you." 

Were you not edgy about eliciting another round of 'punishment' you might have called him an **asshole**. 

Realizing that your arm was draped across his chest you withdrew it, aiming for some distance, but the arm around you tightened, refusing to let you move from his side. This time you couldn't withhold your sigh of irritation, "Do you have something against personal space?" 

"Yes." he responded simply, expression completely, unapologetically blank as his other hand appeared, dragging your arm back across his chest where it had been before, "where you're concerned at least." Before you could argue further he gave your wrist a warning squeeze. You both studied the faint outline of the cuff on your skin before he shifted enough to turn towards you, "I'm still waiting on that explanation. If you weren't going to kill me tonight, what is it you were planning on doing once I was knocked out?" 

You bit your lip momentarily. Though you knew this moment would come, now that it was here you weren't sure how to shamelessly explain that you planned on blackmailing an assassin into leaving you alone. Thinking it through with a clearer head, it sounded pretty ridiculous now. 

And...unnecessary? Kylo was clearly anything but conventional and not the gentlest when it came to getting what he wanted, but it wasn't as if you could really deny you hadn't wanted anything he'd done. Perhaps you could have lived without the brutal delivery, but you hadn't nearly come three different times because you _didn't_ want to be with him. 

Figuring it was better to just face the music - and hope that he could shed some light on what the hell he'd done to your rational thoughts - you sighed again, though it was resigned this time rather than agitated. "I was going to search your phone and see if I could find anything...incriminating. And before you accuse me of trying to turn you in to the authorities, I wasn't. I just thought if I had something over you I could get you to leave me alone without killing innocent people to get back at me." 

Either he'd fucked the honesty right out of you, or you'd grown comfortable enough with him to confess to a plan to blackmail him out of your life laying naked in bed with him. You weren't sure which thought disturbed you more. 

You risked a glance at him, finding him thoughtful. The arm around you was still tight but not bruising. His hip traced circles into your hipbone as he mulled over you words. "Is it really so horrible?" he finally questioned, his tone an mixture of curiosity, anger, and hurt. It occurred to you for the first time that he wasn't just upset about what you'd done, he seemed genuinely wounded that your efforts while not lethal were intended to push him away. "Being wanted the way I want you? It's so unbearable you have to resort to blackmail to force me away?" 

Was it? You may not have wanted to think too closely on it, but was a fair question. A loaded one, you hoped he would give you that much, but fair enough. "If it were as simple as you make it sound, then no." you admitted, shaking your head at the spark in his eyes, "But it's not. Don't be coy, Kylo. You've threatened people I love if I don't cooperate. You just swore tonight if I don't cooperate you'll drag me off to parts unknown. You may not be keeping me in a cage but I feel like your prisoner. When I saw a chance for a way out, a chance to protect people I love, and myself, from you I took it." 

Though his expression darkened you could see his inability to deny the truth. He'd backed you into a corner and you reacted. Same as any other relatively normal person would have done. After an extended moment his eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm a selfish man, angel. And I've made a life in a world where if you don't fight and take everything you want, it's get taken _from_ you. If you're waiting for the day when I apologize for taking **you** , it's not coming. But I don't think you want that. I know you feel something for me. Maybe not an exact image of the fucking insane craving I do, but you feel the connection. The last few days are proof of that." 

"How would you know?" you questioned, managing to keep your tone somewhat regulated, but you were fighting a new stab of frustration with him. "Maybe I'm just pretending so you don't go on another killing spree." That was a lie if you ever heard one, but it could have easily been true from someone a little more **sane**. 

The fleeting smirk that touched his lips for a moment was the only warning you had before you were flat on your back with him hovering over you. His hair, now dry and slightly wavy hung down as he raised a hand to seize your chin, "Liar." he accused, seeing through you so easily you may as well have told him the _leprechauns_ made you do it. 

"What's the _punishment_ for that?" You quipped in return, feeling that little voice in the back of your head telling you to stop playing with fire. Again. Much like earlier in the night when you'd insisted he explain the reality of your situation, you wanted to know where you stood with him. If he was going to keep forcing his way in it was the least he could do. 

But rather than flare up at your attempt to goad him, he gave you a dry look, "You're focusing too much on consequences. I don't want to punish you," he paused, shrugging, knowing that was a lie too, "at least not in the form of hurting someone you care about or stealing you from your life. But I have to set boundaries. It's the reality of _my_ situation. I can't afford to be careless, and by extension, neither can you. But it's all worst case scenario. As long as you cooperate I won't be forced to do anything that _neither_ of us will enjoy." 

It remained in the back of your head that if you _hadn't_ wanted him, you would likely still be faced with the same choices. And while that was further proof to his selfishness, it was also a sort of comfort to you. No matter what feelings or attraction you were battling, there was no getting out of this for you. You hadn't just fallen for the charms of Poe's murderer. He'd forced his way back into your life and making him leave it wasn't an option. 

Whether it was the absolution of that realization, or just the burden of choice being lifted you didn't know, but you felt some of the guilt and anxiety that had been eating away at you disappear. 

"So we keep playing house, I don't mention that my new bedmate also happens to be America's most wanted, and everyone I care about - no scratch that - everyone in my life whether I particularly like them or not, is safe? You don't stuff me in the trunk of your car and flee for Mexico?" You were undoubtedly striking a deal with the devil, but at least you would finally understand the terms. 

And maybe some day you'd be playing the game instead of standing on the sidelines.

A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes at the description, his hand dropping from your chin to run through your hair, "Oh my girl, the things I could do with you..." You gulped as he trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air - and your imagination run wild - before he gave you a solemn nod, "In essence, yes. I already told you, I want you to be happy. And I'm doing everything I can to make sure you stay that way, but I need you to meet me halfway." 

Halfway might have been a tall order, especially considering you didn't even know half the story, but for the time being you were certain it was the best you were going to get. And it beat the alternatives. You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek before moving your feet to let the chain of the cuffs catch on his ankle, "Take those off and we have a deal." 

"You want them on your wrists instead?" he asked innocently, grabbing your hand before you could smack him. He kissed your knuckles before sitting up, tugging your feet on to his lap and digging in the pocket of his sweatpants for the key, "Fine," finding it he had them off and tossed on the carpeted floor in record time, "but it won't be the last time you see them."

Rolling your eyes you grabbed the edge of the blanket he'd turned up and wrapped it around yourself as he laid back down. Before your head could touch the pillow his arm was around you again, pulling you back to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, pretending to huff in annoyance. 

But truth be told; it was nice. 

***************

The following day turned out to be shockingly normal. 

You'd woken to another note from Kylo, folded on the pillow next to you;

_Something came up, angel. My Knights and I have to leave town sooner than expected for a job, unexpected wrench in the plans that has to be dealt with immediately. I didn't want to wake you to say goodbye. I'll be back in a few days. If you need anything I'm leaving the number for the contract guards I have on call. You'll be protected, they're just back up._

_I hope we both know where we stand after last night._

_When I get home I'm taking you on a real date._

_Be safe._

_**BEHAVE**._

_P.S. Your vibrator is back in your nightstand. Figured you might want it after last night._

_-K_

You hadn't felt one _shred_ of remorse about ripping his note to bits and tossing it in the trash.

The prospect of having a few days to collect yourself and have enough space to think with your head instead of less reputable parts of your body left you feeling energized despite the lack of sleep. And with it finally being the weekend you wouldn't have to soldier through another day of work pretending nothing in your life changed when it reality you felt almost like a new person. 

After running a few neglected errands and stopping in to visit your parents - fooling your mom into thinking you were fine deserved at least an Oscar nomination - you'd invested a little bit of time into a new project. 

Investigating the terrorist attack. 

A quick search of keywords confirmed that the bombing had in fact taken place, and much in the way Kylo had described. At least to the extent the news could cover. Terrorism was suspected but not proven. A bomb had gone off in the basement of the building, rupturing the foundation and bringing the building to ruins in seconds, further dilapidating every second. The fire took hours to contain. And just as he'd confirmed, there wasn't a single survivor in the hotel. You were able to find the full list of victims, but you had no way of knowing who Kylo had referred to when he said he lost someone. You didn't even know his last name. Hell, you didn't even know if Kylo was his real name. 

But finding out about Kylo's connection to the attack had only been part of your motivation. The real reason was Poe.

You were never going to hear his side of the story. Not that it would have excused his actions, but you couldn't fathom coming to terms with it when closure simply wasn't possible. He would never be able to tell you if his life or well being had been threatened. Maybe he felt like he didn't have a choice. Maybe there was a gun to his head when he put that suitcase down. Maybe he was working willingly with the terrorists. You didn't want to believe that, but ever since the accident you felt like you'd learned more and more that you'd never truly known Poe. You knew the person he wanted everyone to think he was. And when he began drinking, the armor cracking and you realized he wasn't as perfect as everyone thought, he hated you for it. 

Again, **maybe**. 

He'd never explained his sudden resentment of you, other than the fact that you were the one pushing him not to drink. But it had felt deeper than that. Much more complex than simply being angry at being denied the bottle. 

The more you thought back to that time when things had so suddenly shifted and continued to research the attack, you began to realize that Poe's downward spiral coincided identically with the timing of the attack. The weekend he'd come home seemingly a changed, withdrawn, haunted man was the same one all those people had been killed in the bombing. 

It was a sobering and sickening thought to realize that the change in him - most likely - that ultimately took his life, ruined your marriage, and initiated the sequence of events that brought Kylo into your life were all connected by the same tragedy. 

Oddly enough it gave you some comfort to finally understand what had pushed Poe over the edge. To have something solid and concrete to tie the total destruction of his life to. To know he hadn't dived into the bottle for no good reason. Or because of you. You'd never understood what you could have done that would make him drift so completely from the rails, but you'd always wondered. That resentment he harbored for you had left you with a fear that some failure on your part had been a catalyst. 

But at the same time you were still left with questions. How had Poe gotten involved with the terrorist organization to begin with? Why didn't he tell you he was in trouble? Was there anything that he could have done to prevent that tragic day that claimed nearly eighty innocent lives?

And who had Kylo lost? 

You didn't blame him for not telling you the other night. You'd been in shock. Still scared of him, Sick at the thought of Poe causing something so evil. You couldn't have handled much more that night. And you'd gotten the distinct impression that Kylo wasn't ready to share that information with you. The nightmare you'd woken him from you were sure was related, but he'd declined to explain. 

The problem was, now that you knew the truth, how could you not suspect that Kylo's fixation with you wasn't related? If he'd lost a parent or a sibling or a friend in that attack he had every right in the world to despise Poe. Not that you were okay with murder, but putting yourself in his shoes you could see being angry enough that justice could only be served in such a drastic form. And you could also understand hating you by extension. No you weren't involved in the attack, you hadn't known a thing about Poe's dealings, but you _were_ his wife. 

How could you be sure this wasn't all tied to his revenge against Poe? Against the organization that robbed him of someone who clearly mattered dearly to him? 

The thought made your head throb with the threat of a migraine. At that point you'd sunk hours into researching at your laptop and you decided it was time to blow off some steam, ignoring your residual soreness from the night before. 

After tossing on some black workout leggings and an electric blue cropped tank top you headed to the gym you seldom ventured in to. It had been Poe's idea to join, and you'd faithfully paid the subscription, even though the receptionist at the desk had to go digging for your account information when you signed in. Thinking back, you probably hadn't darkened the doorway of the place for a solid five months. 

Though you were far from accustomed to working out and you practically had to limp out of the gym you felt considerably better by the time you left, having sweat at least some of the angst out of your body. It had been impossible to focus on Kylo, or Poe, or anything else while your 'complimentary trainer' screamed cheerful euphemisms at you. 

By the time you reached your front door, fumbling to pull your keys out of your bag, all you could think about was climbing into a nice, long, hot bath with a glass of wine you _hadn't_ flavored with Diazepam. 

At least, that was plan until you found Vicrul on your couch. 

Not just _on_ your couch; **sprawled** on your couch. Reclined against a wall of pillows with his boot-clad feet up, eyes glued to to the TV. A bowl of popcorn on his chest, the couch and floor littered with stray pieces that somehow managed to evade his mouth. When he noticed you standing there staring incredulously at him, he merely offered a bland smile and waved, more popcorn flying from his hand and landing on the floor, "Hey, Angel. Nice outfit." 

Narrowing your eyes you dumped your bags by the entrance to the living room, taking a step further into the room and grimacing when you felt popcorn squish beneath your sneaker. "What are you doing in my house, _Vance_?"

His brows knit together again at your insistence in calling him the wrong name, but he shrugged, deciding not to comment. Instead, he popped a few more kernels into his smirking mouth, mischief dancing in his striking blue eyes. "Ren put me on babysitting duty while he and the others are on a job. Say hello to your new roommate."

**************

**(** a/n **)**

So...yeah. This was an interesting one to write. Please comment/vote and let me know what you thought? 

Thank you for reading! <3


	8. Ren

**_TWs_** : _violence, blood, use of various weapons, graphic torture, death, mentions of terrorism, a shit ton of remorseless Kylo, and some smutty smut._

 **(** Kylo **)**

"Approaching the west gate, thirty seconds out. Disable the drones and communication systems now, lights and automatic locks in fifteen seconds." Kylo murmured into his earpiece, moving silently through the trees surrounding the estate. It never ceased to amuse him how people thought walls and foliage would keep them safe. The very act of _hiding_ rather than finding a way to fight cemented their defeat before the battle even started.

Trudgen crept beside him, as invisible to the naked eye as he was. Both wore all black; every exposed patch of skin camouflaged to blend with their surroundings. The blood already spattered on their shirts indistinguishable stains. Unfortunately for the perimeter guards they couldn't be allowed to survive the night. Their interference, like the rest of the fifty seven guards under the employ of Charles Ranson, were a luxury they couldn't afford.

Their plans had already been derailed enough by having to postpone the Berlin job to cross yet another name off the list of people responsible for the Amsterdam attack. Like most of the higher ups on the list, Ranson had realized that there was a target on his back. The increased security around his estate had apparently only been a temporary measure to ensure he continued breathing. One of the hackers had been able to access detailed plans for decommissioning and moving his expansive security network and the majority of his possessions to what was essentially a fortress in Singapore. A fortress that would be damn near impossible for he and his team to infiltrate. Noting the shipping and delivery dates in the plans they realized they only had about a 32 hour window to act or Ranson may never pay for his part in the attack.

To some extent he was edgy; their jobs usually involved weeks to months of careful planning rather than a few days. They covered every base, made sure they knew the property, the schedules, the guard routines, security systems, and target(s) like the backs of their hands before they struck. It was laborious work, but it kept them alive. It also ensured their targets didn't weasel their way out of greeting Death.

And Ranson was, if nothing else, a _rodent_.

While not directly directly employed by the organization, he'd worked in a sort of contract role, using his considerable wealth to bank role various divisions and then using the organization to target and ultimately eliminate anyone who might threaten his empire. His legitimate business was investments; the not so legitimate human trafficking. Everyone from recent MIT grads to federal agents made his list of 'threats'. While Poe Dameron hadn't been one of those threats, Ranson's role in the attack was crucial.

He paid for the bomb that ended his son's life.

Just thinking about what they'd discovered made his blood boil. The rage he usually fought so hard to keep under semi-decent control was snarling in its cage, begging to be _unleashed_. It wasn't just the standing anger and pain that fueled him; this was personal. Another person he could personally attribute to Alexander's death.

"You sure your head's on straight?" Trudgen muttered as they both crouched and moved into position, watching the guards pace lazily near the main gate. Apparently Ranson's money wasn't buying much; they'd yet to notice the drone operations failure, nor the lack of contact from the perimeter guards.

Kylo tried not to hold the moment of doubt against him; were their positions reversed, he would have done the same. They didn't exist in a forgiving world to begin with, but going on a job letting emotions make the judgement calls was a surefire way to end up dead. Or worse. The Knights knew the purpose behind the list and had unhesitatingly agreed to help him obliterate every single name on it; he told himself again he should just be grateful they hadn't outright refused.

Holding his rifle up and moving the shoulder stock into place, finger resting on the trigger as he looked through the scope he gave a short nod before firing the first shot, watching one of the guards fall to the ground dead before the floodlights shining down on the remaining few went out, leaving them in blackness. "I'm sure."

Ap'Lek was running tech support for them a few miles away in the van, apparently just as successful as ever. He'd been a quick study at picking up the skills needed to suit their needs. Occasionally he would have to bring in their team of hackers for some of the more complicated systems but Ranson's set up had proven tragically standard. "Gate should be unlocked. Comms, lights, drones, and alarms still down. I'm working on looping the video footage in the main house. There's another unit of guards between the gate the house, near the barracks." his voice crackled through Kylo's earpiece. He could hear his furious typing in the back ground.

Through their night vision goggles finishing off the last few guards was a cake walk. They didn't stand a chance so unprepared. The only sounds aside from the smooth pops from their silenced rifles a panicked cry that the alarm wasn't working that was cut short by a bullet to the skull.

"What a dumbass. He was pressing the button for the gate." Ap'Lek chuckled. Rolling his eyes Kylo switched his frequency to check on the others, not inclined to point out the guy had been in the dark with bullets whizzing past his head.

"Ushar, status report." He mumbled as he nodded for Trudgen to follow him. They jogged silently up to the imposing iron gate. With a sharp tug it slid to the side, the automatic function no longer working. Sliding it silently along the track he pushed it all the open, just in case they needed to make a quick escape later. "Ushar?"

Something that sounded very much like a boot colliding with flesh and bone greeted his question. "Ah, fuck! Sorry. We got it covered. That last little fucker _bit_ me. Like some kind of fucking animal." Ushar complained through the earpiece, sounding both disgusted and pissed.

"Glad to hear you're making friends." Kylo smirked as he and Trudgen followed the fence line deeper into the property. By his estimation they had about thirty more guards to deal with before the path would be clear to Ranson. The majority of them were stationed outside, but judging by their research they assumed anywhere from 3 to 10 would be inside the main house.

Continuing across the shadowy grounds they moved like ghosts, years of stealth training ensuring they could go undetected until absolutely necessary. With the drones, cameras, and communications down in addition to the disabled security system there wasn't a risk of all the guards being alerted at once, nor Ranson hearing the commotion and running to his panic room stowed in the basement, but they were still pretty outnumbered. They'd agreed to stay as quiet as possible until they couldn't.

Up ahead he spotted two guards talking under the glow of a nearby flood light Ap'lek hadn't disabled yet, guns held casually at their sides. From the sounds of it they were comparing notes on the shirt schedule for the following day. A schedule that would be unnecessary _very_ , very soon. Nodding sharply to Trudgen they simultaneously slung their rifles on their backs, creeping closer in the shadows. Before he could whisper into his headset the light suddenly clicked off, leaving the guards in the dark and fumbling for their flashlights.

Rushing forward Trudgen grabbed the first guard in a choke hold, knocking his gun away and swiftly snapping his neck before tossing his lifeless body to the side. The other guard, the one Kylo went for, was met with a very different fate. Pulling his knife from his holster he grabbed the guard from behind, the knife poised at his jugular before he could even think of raising the gun. Some pitiful plea for mercy was cut short by the blade sliding roughly across his throat, a spray of blood soaking the grass beneath them. Begging quickly turned to strangled gurgles as he clutched at his neck. Kylo could feel the sleeve of his thermal growing damp with the warm gush of blood, a feeling he _savored_ , that wrath driven beast inside him starving for more. "You should have kept your day job." He muttered before tossing the man to the side with the other guard, watching the light fade from his eyes as life drained from his body. Trudgen glanced his way but wisely chose not to comment.

They all had demons that needed to be sated.

Guns back at the ready they continued across the property. Ap'lek finally got all the lights down, and a few guards had come wandering out looking for the source of the issue. They would be expecting the back up generators to kick in...the same ones they'd dismantled undetected a few hours ago. Ranson should have known better than to leave his back ups so painfully unprotected. Then again, he also should have known his efforts to escape the death he'd so richly earned were **futile**.

The first three guards in their immediate area were silenced with quiet headshots, the only disturbance a few thuds as their corpses hit the dirt. A few more bodies for the police to clean up in the daylight.

Nearing the main house they were forced to leave the cover of the tree line and veer out into the open. Since they'd left the power untampered with in the main house there was a glow of light coming from multiple windows, which illuminated the guards close by but also put them at more risk of detection. Stopping for a moment, Kylo nodded in each direction, indicating they should split up. Trudgen nodded briefly and set off to the right while Kylo went to the left.

Staying low to the ground he assessed the layout; there were five guards at the front of the house, two off to the right that he trusted Trudgen to handle, and three closer to him. Two were close enough that he felt confident he could handle them at once without making a scene, the third was a variable he didn't like.

When he was nearly in position the guard closest to him must have seen his movement. He turned, mouth opening to call for the others, but Kylo slammed the shoulder stock against his jaw, hearing bones crack as the man fell to the ground. The other two turned his way as he got the rifle back against his shoulder, firing off a shot. The bullet landed between the eyes of the guard furthest away, leaving him to deal with the other one.

The guard was several inches shorter than him, he used that to dodge Kylo's first strike as he rushed at him. Stupidly, he remained quiet, turning to face off with him in a _fair_ fight. A predatory smile crept over his lips; nothing thrilled him more than a chance to wreak destruction with his bare hands. Slinging his gun around on his back by the strap he advanced on the smaller man. His fist swung out, striking him in the kidneys with punishing force. The man wheezed for air as he tried and failed to strike back, his movements clumsy. A blow to his nose came with the satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking; had the guard not moved just in time bone fragments would have ended up in his brain.

Despite the blood pouring down his face he rushed at Kylo again, fist finding nothing but thin air as Kylo dodged his attack and aimed a kick at the back of the guard's knee that sent him sprawling to the ground in a heap. With his heavy boot, he kicked the man over so he was lying on his back before stepping on his throat. The man panicked, squirming and reaching desperately for the handgun in his holster but Kylo beat him there, reaching down and snatching the gun with his gloved hand and tossing it away into the grass. He leaned down, letting all his weight rest on the guard before offering him a false smile, "You fought like a good little soldier, and now you can die like one." In one lithe move he moved his foot and grabbed the man's head between his hands, twisting until he felt the telltale _snap_.

Rising to his feet, he reclaimed his knife and went back to the first guard, who while seriously injured and moaning in the grass, wasn't dead. Without a second thought he bent and slashed the man's throat. He watched the dark crimson flood pool in the dirt as he cleaned his knife on the man's shirt before climbing back to his feet.

Trudgen stood a few feet away, the two dead guards behind him proof of his success. He gave Kylo a dry look, "Don't ever walk in a church. You ass will be an inferno before you make it past the threshold."

Solid advice. Rolling his eyes, Kylo tapped his earpiece after pulling his night vision off, "Front secure. Moving in now. Do you have the back?"

"All clear. We've taken out thirteen back here, how many at the front?" Cardo's voice hissed through his earpiece. He sounded out of breath but otherwise fine. Since he hadn't reported any injuries or asked for backup Kylo assumed all was well on their end.

Making a mental tally in his head, he was pleased with the numbers, "Ten. Seven more to go. You all know the drill. No prisoners. Kill anything moving in there except Ranson." It wasn't their first kill from the list. They all knew the way these jobs worked. No witnesses. No hostages. And Kylo would be the one to eliminate the mark.

Well, there was one pretty little exception to their carefully structured jobs. But in all fairness, **she** had never been his target.

Forcing himself not to think about his increasing distracting fixation several hundred miles away, he quietly climbed the steps as the Knights echoed their understanding in his ear. As he'd hoped, the door was unlocked. Being that the house sat on a guarded estate and the guards he was certain made routine rounds there was little cause to lock the door. Not that it would have stopped him, but picking it was something he didn't have the patience for. Not now when he could practically _taste_ the blood.

The main foyer was sprawling, nearly all marble. A show of wealth. Yet not a single guard to ensure the owner got to enjoy it. He nodded again at Trudgen as they parted; Kylo for the stairwell, Trudgen for the hall where he would meet up with the other Knights in the middle.

Climbing the stairs quietly and staying low to the ground he spotted a guard at the top of the steps, facing away. Distracted with his phone. That was unfortunate for him. Taking the rest of the stairs at a quick and quiet pace, the guard didn't even look up until Kylo seized the back of his neck and proceeded to toss him over the railing. The body hit the marble floors with a sickening _crunch_. Glancing over the edge Kylo watched the white floor slowly being stained red from the man's cracked skull. It really was a shame Ranson hadn't gone with carpet. The fall might have hurt a little less.

"Five guards down. A maid too, looks like she was the only other live in staff." Usher informed quietly through his earpiece.

Just as he reasoned that the last remaining guard must be with Ranson, a vase smashed into the back of his head.

The blow hurt, but the height difference between he and the guard he turned to face had lessened the impact. The man looked absolutely petrified that all he'd managed to do was piss him off. His mouth hung open, trying and failing to form words. "My turn." Kylo snarled. Grabbing the front of the guard's shirt with both hands he lifted him off his feet and tossed him backwards, sending him crashing into the wall behind him so hard his back broke through the drywall before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. No longer concerned with noise, he lifted his rifle and fired off ten bullets into the man, watching his blood decorate the ruined wall behind him. Letting Ranson experience a taste of the chaos.

According to the blueprints of the house, Ranson's bedroom was at the end of the hall. A door that was amusingly closed when he reached it. Did the asshole really think a door was going to save him? "Might wanna duck, Charlie," he called mockingly through the door, counting to three in his head before firing off several bullets into the doorknob and hinges. Without anything to hold it up it fell forward into the room...where a terrified Ranson sat huddled in the corner.

Yet another pussy comfortable with mass murder so long as they didn't have to do the dirty work, but ready to shit their pants at the thought of any harm coming to _them_.

Pointing the rifle at the quivering man, thinking he looked more like a pig than a man with his beady eyes, upturned nose, and pale pinkish skin, he gestured for Ranson to join him in the hallway. "Get the fuck up and move. **Now**."

"Please," Ranson begged, visibly shaking, "I can give you whatever you want. Anything! I swear." Clearly used to swaying people with nothing more than the wad of cash in his pockets, he pointed to the bed where his wallet was laying, "Take it! Take as much as you want. I won't contact the authorities. I'll even.."

His pathetic attempts at escaping his fate earned him the bullet now lodged in his arm. Ranson howled in agony, clutching his pudgy, bleeding arm as tears began rolling down his flushed cheeks, "Oh god please no!"

"Get up and move or the next bullet hits something more valuable," Kylo threatened darkly, lowering the barrel of the rifle to align with his crotch. He'd planned carefully what he wanted to do with Ranson when they finally found him, he wasn't going to be denied because he was a coward. "Bring the wallet." He added.

Either afraid of the consequences or thinking that the request for him to bring his money was a good sign, Ranson inched his way up the wall back to his feet, whining loudly at the pain in his arm. Moving slowly he grabbed his wallet from the bed before tripping his way over the fallen door and walking down the hallway with Kylo close on his heels. He tried to look back once and begin pleading again, but the murderous glare on his face seemed to convince Ranson to shut up. When he saw the fallen guard and the blood stained wall his skin turned an unpleasant shade of green.

They moved quietly through the house, back down the stairs and into the gleaming kitchen the dead maid had probably just scrubbed clean hours before. The Knights were there waiting, though none of them commented as Kylo shoved Ranson over to the sink. "Take all the cash in your wallet and stick it in the drain." Kylo demanded, the rifle still held at the ready.

Ranson looked like he wanted to argue, but ultimately decided to stay quiet, he fumbled with his wallet, whimpering over his arm, before producing what appeared to be a a few thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills. Doing as Kylo asked, he stuffed them down the drain before turning to him with a confused expression.

"Turn on the garbage disposal." Kylo said loftily, nodding to the switch on the wall. Again Ranson seemed confused - the idea of someone **not** interested in his filthy money practically a foreign concept - but after a moment of indecision he obeyed. With the flip of the switch the disposal roared to life, a few bits of green paper flew up as the money was shredded to bits. "Good. Now all your credit cards."

Though no real damage came from shredding bits of plastic, Ranson still seemed to mourn the loss as he fished all his cards out and dropped them into the disposal. When he was confident the cards were destroyed he flipped the switch off, the room silent again, "You don't have to do this. If you don't need money I have plenty of other things. Cars, planes, weapons, drugs, women. Whatever you want, it's yours."

Taking a step closer, Kylo offered him a poisonous smile, "You are so right, you will give me what I want. And what I want now is for you to stick your hand down the drain next. I'll even be nice and let you pick which one." He looked between his two hands, as if he cared which one would be selected.

Terror plain in Ranson's eyes, he shook his head vigorously, "No! Please I'll do anything you want just not this! You don't need to kill me. I haven't done anything wrong!"

For a moment Kylo simply stared at him. Hadn't done anything wrong. Could he have come up with a worse defense? Seeing this he was going to need some assistance, he nodded to Ushar and Kuruk who immediately joined them at the sink, seizing Ranson and forcing his right hand - the uninjured arm - down into the drain while he cried and blubbered for mercy.

"Mercy. But why would you need mercy if you did nothing wrong?" Kylo asked quietly, looking into Ranson's wife, teary eyes with nothing but pure hatred reflected in his own. "Could it be that you were **mistaken**? Perhaps you did do something wrong. Maybe if you admit it, I'll show mercy." He wondered if everyone could hear the blatant lie in his tone.

Apparently, Ranson's hope for survival left him deaf to deception. He sobbed, a choked sound as tears and snot dropped down his face, "This is about the bomb, isn't it? Please I didn't know what it was going to be used for. They don't give me all the details. You have to believe me, I didn't mean for all those people to die."

Taking yet another step closer, Kylo felt his blood boil with fury, "Ah, so my son is dead because you couldn't be troubled with 'details'? Well, that makes it all better then, doesn't it? You paid for a black market explosive and assumed they would what? Use it to bring world peace? You know Charlie," he leaned in closer, speaking in his ear as he reached for the switch on the wall, "You're an even bigger waste of air than I thought." Flipping the disposal back on, he leaned back as Ranson's screams of agony filled the room.

He watched impassively as his Knights held Ranson in place, blood flying from the drain and spattering all of them and the walls. The sound of metal first slicing through flesh and then colliding with bones were almost a comfort; he'd waited a long time to see the man who bank rolled Zander's murder pay.

When he was satisfied he nodded for Kuruk and Ushar to pull Ranson back. After cutting off the disposal they pulled his arm back, revealing what little remained of his ruined, mangled hand. Little more than a skeleton with bits of flesh remaining only by a thread. He screamed at the sight of it before doubling over and vomiting all over the floor.

Rolling his eyes, he stepped back to spare his shoes, "Well that was _dramatic_. And premature." Looking at his Knights, he nodded back to the sink, "The other hand, too."

Ignoring Ranson's strangled pleas Ushar turned the disposal back on before he and Kuruk shoved his good hand down the drain. A renewed round of screams tore from Ranson's throat, blood from the bullet wound and his torn to shreds hand spreading across what had been shiny white tile. By the time he gave another nod Ranson looked close to passing out.

"Please....please just let me go, this has to be enough," he sobbed quietly, looking to the Knights when he could see the lack of sympathy in Kylo's eyes, but they remained impassive. "I never meant for your son to die. I've been punished enough."

"How interesting," Kylo remarked slowly, stepping over the mess on the floor to stand mere inches from the blubbering worm who had never known punishment before this moment. "I was just thinking the same thing." He waited for that little spark of hope in Ranson's eyes, the disbelief that he had actually managed to survive the encounter before jerking his knife from his holster and plunging into his gut.

Ranson let out a hoarse moan of agony as Kylo slowly drug the knife down his abdomen, his hand soaked in blood, "I'll see you in hell, Charlie." He muttered quietly before stepping back, allowing Ushar and Kuruk to drop the dead man into a pool of filth.

One more name to cross off the list.

****************

"What's that?" Vicrul asked for what had to be the dozenth time since you'd walked into the farmer's market. Maybe two dozenth. For a scary murderer who liked to break into people's homes in the middle of the night he had a startling lack of knowledge when it came to a food that wasn't in a five year old's diet. Seriously. The guy seemed to survive on nothing but popcorn and dino nuggets. Half of which ended up on your floors instead of in his mouth.

It was only a day and a half in and you could say with complete certainty that Vicrul was the single worst house guest you'd ever had in your life. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get rid of him. Since Kylo had ordered him to 'babysit' you in his absence, there was no getting around it. The same secrecy rules that applied to Kylo apparently applied to his annoyingly persistent Knight.

Every time you left the house there he was in the passenger's seat, aggravatingly chipper like a pre-schooler buckling in for their first trip to Disney World. You'd assumed he would be angry at being left behind, but apparently you allowed him to dodge a bullet. " _Better here than freezing my balls off in Montana_." he said by way of explanation.

So now, thanks to Kylo and his belief that you couldn't be left alone for any stretch of time, you were still saddled with your unwanted house guest. The only bright side was that your office was closed to celebrate some 'National Day of' you'd already forgotten. Translation; your boss wanted a long weekend. Which gave you an extra day of not having to explain why you suddenly had a body guard that followed you _everywhere_.

"Fennel," you responded shortly, sorting through a basket of tomatoes. You tried and failed not to cringe as he poked it with his index finger like some kind of feral beast he expected to strike. The elderly man manning the table gave him, and then you a look that suggested he believed Vicrul had escaped from the local _zoo_.

Making a face, Vicrul backed up a step, "Why do people have to make food so complicated? All these weird hybrid crops. Man survived long before _fennel_."

"They also survived much longer before _dinosaur_ nuggets." You pointed out dryly, handing the farmer your selections as well as a few bills, praying you could leave before Vicrul further offended him. If it were a restaurant, you could have counted on someone spitting in your food.

With your tomatoes in a sack and change in hand you quickly nudged Vicrul away towards another table, shooting the elderly man an apologetic look over your shoulder. "Oh come on, Angel. You've been in a bad mood all day." He objected as he glanced down at a table displaying broccoli and cauliflower. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he gave you a pleading look, "Let's go somewhere fun. Like the shooting range. Or a bar. Anywhere but **here**."

Admittedly, you were getting a kick out of calling the shots. At least, somewhat. Since you didn't get a say in Vicrul crashing with you, or following you around, or being reminded on a constant interval what would happen to your loved ones if you tried anything 'stupid' while Kylo was out of town, it was nice to terrorize him a little in return. So nice that you'd made it a point to stop at _every single table_ in the market.

Among the few secrets Vicrul had let slip over the last several hours, the fact that he had to accommodate you was one of them. Revealing Kylo's last name was the other, but he'd been strictly tight lipped on that one once he realized his mistake.

"Oh look, Vincenzo, squash." You responded innocently, drifting over to the adjoining table lined with spaghetti, acorn, and butternut squash. Holding back a grin when you heard him groan irritably, you grabbed one of the acorn, "Doesn't that look good for dinner?"

Narrowing his eyes at you, he plucked the vegetable from your hand and set it back down on the table. "Vincenzo? Do I look Italian to you?" Actually, no. With his fair skin, blue eyes, and copper-brown hair he looked more like most teenage girls' ideas of a hunky vampire, but what could you say? There weren't that many V names to choose from. "My name isn't that hard to pronounce."

"Neither is mine." You countered, reminding him that he was the one to start the battle by insisting on calling you 'Angel' instead of your actual name. It got to you more than it had before. Every time he called you that it made you think of Kylo. And not in a fearful or angry way. You found yourself...missing him. His quiet presence. The way he watched you. The feel of his hand stroking your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

You needed psychological help.

You should have been glad he was gone. Thrilled, really, considering the night before he left he'd tied you up and fucked you until you'd literally passed out. But you weren't. In fact you'd spent a considerable amount of time already forcing yourself not to give in and ask Vicrul for an update. You shouldn't care if Kylo had made it to his destination safely, or how it was going, or whether or not he was shipped him in a body bag.

But you _did_.

Which, unfortunately for Vicrul, had deflated your mood that much more. "You know there's an easy alternative. You could just leave me alone for a while? Go back to stealing candy from babies or whatever it is you do in your downtime." Aside from make messes on your floors. You still didn't understand why it was that Kylo had apparently insisted - apparently, because he hadn't actually told you himself, but rather left Vicrul to tell you he'd be hanging around - you needed supervision. Did he think if he wasn't around you would forget his threats? To the safety of your loved ones or your continued freedom? As if you were likely to let either slip your mind.

"You don't want to know what I spend my free time doing." Vicrul responded casually, a dark smirk upturning his lips briefly. And despite having been exasperated with him only a moment before, you believed him. As harmless as he could appear when he wanted to, you sensed much of the same darkness in him as you did Kylo. Something deep rooted that he didn't seem interested in moving on from. "You have everything you need now?" he asked a moment later, glancing down at the bags each of you held.

Truth be told you'd had what you needed a while ago; the purpose of staying hadn't been to find more. But, conceding defeat, you nodded. There were other areas you were willing to push your luck with where he was concerned; food wasn't one of them. Information about Kylo on the other hand, now that was a different story.

Grabbing your wrist Vicrul lead the way through the market, weaving between the throngs of people easily considering his size. Once people got a good look at him they seemed to instinctively give him a wide berth. Well, some people did. Others, specifically women, were perfectly willing to stare open-mouthed in his direction. Boosting his already enormous ego.

Once you made it through the main exit and stared out into the parking lot you tried - unsuccessfully - to pull your wrist out of his hand, "Aren't we a little old for the buddy system?" you questioned dryly. When you reached the car you clicked the remote on your keys to pop the trunk.

With the bags loaded Vicrul closed the trunk for you before crossing his arms, giving you a knowing look, "The boss said you're flighty. I'd have no issues catching you if you decided to try making a break for it, but I'd rather not deal with the hysterics. Or the cops." Not waiting for your response he nodded to the driver's side door, giving you a gentle but firm nudge when you didn't immediately move.

"Flighty?" you repeated, choosing to focus on that rather than the implied threat. You didn't need him to explain again that if you broke any of Kylo's rules Vicrul had been ordered to uproot you to one of their safehouses until Kylo and the other Knights returned.

Opening your door for you, Vicrul gave you a sardonic grin before shrugging, "Actually he said you were a fucking brat when you want to be. I was just being polite. Now get your ass in the car." With that he turned on his heel and walked around to the passenger's side, looking so smug you would have gladly run him over with your car. And then backed up so you could do it **again**.

While making a mental note to kill Kylo the moment he got home for both calling you a _brat_ and leaving you with the likes of Vicrul, you seriously considered refusing. To do what you weren't sure, but you were more than tired of being ordered around.

Taking a steadying breath, you reluctantly accepted this wasn't a battle worth fighting. This time, at least. Gritting your teeth you slid into the driver's seat and buckled in, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze though you could feel his eyes on you as you started the car and began backing out of the space.

"Good choice. You wouldn't have enjoyed the alternative."

Maybe it was your anger talking, but a thought had occurred to you. You hadn't forgotten the look of absolute fury on Kylo's face the other night when he walked in to find you in Truden's arms. Though Kylo struck you as many things, the _sharing_ type wasn't one of them. Not with how singularly focused he was on you. While you didn't doubt Vicrul had instructions for emergencies, you were willing to bet under less threatening circumstances he would be thrilled with his Knight laying so much as a finger tip on you.

Deciding to test that theory - guiltlessly so, he'd brought it on himself - you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye as you pulled out on to the main road, "Is that so?" you asked curiously, your tone sounding foreign even to you. "Well, I'll be sure to tell Kylo what a good job you did following his orders. How relieved he'll be to hear you didn't have to resort to 'alternatives'."

It took a considerable effort not to giggle at the sudden shift in his expression as the wheels turned in his head, confirming your theory instantly. "You don't uh," he cleared his throat, trying and failing to sound convincingly nonchalant. "No need to mention it. We'll just tell him everything went fine."

"Did it, though?" you asked silkily, cocking your head to the side like you had to give it serious consideration. Drumming your fingers on the wheel you copied his earlier shrug, "I mean, I was so... _disappointed_ when you didn't answer my questions about Kylo the other night."

"He wouldn't have wanted me to." Vicrul immediately shot back defensively, turning in his seat to face you. He looked like he was actually _seeing_ you for the first time.

Figuring this might be your only chance to get the information you wanted, you stuck with it. Glancing his way, you raised a challenging brow, "He probably doesn't want you to touch me either, does he?" The slightest widening of his eyes confirmed as much. Turning your gaze back to the road you fought a smirk and thought of all the crumbs you'd vacuumed off the floor the last two days, "Oh dear...guess he's **really** not going to be happy to hear about that."

You felt him studying you as you drove, trying to decide his next move, "You wouldn't." It came out like a question. Even he didn't have much faith in calling your bluff.

Holding up a silencing finger, you brought your hand back to your ear, shifting your fingers into the shape of a phone, thumb at your ear, pinky at your mouth. Giving a convincing sniffle, you dropped your voice to a shaky murmur, "Kylo? I'm sorry to bother you while you're away, it's just..." another sniffle following a crack in your voice, "it's just that I didn't know who to call. Vicrul got so angry and he's been threatening me and," you sucked in an unsteady breath, feeling the muscles in your abdomen burn with the effort of not laughing at his paling expression as a tear rolled down your cheek, "he hurt me." Dropping your hand you turned and gave him a bland, innocent smile before brushing the false tear off your cheek.

Second mental note of the day; you owed your parents a **big** thank you for those drama classes in middle school.

Vicrul's jaw had become unhinged. He regarded you the way someone might a predator who had just done something particularly gruesome. For a man who killed people for a living he looked pretty shaken. Then again, maybe that was just how scary Kylo was. "You're a monster."

Looking back to the road you shrugged again, unconcerned. "You got popcorn kernels in my rug." Maybe it was a little cruel to torture him like that, but it wasn't like you were actually planning on selling him out to Kylo. You just needed him to think you would long enough to give you more information. He was pretty much your only option at this point if Kylo himself didn't give you details. You couldn't contact Agents West or Dommer without arousing suspicion and your internet searches had been just shy of useless. Vicrul had given you a start by slipping up and giving you Kylo's last name, but because the feds didn't have his identity that hadn't brought you any new information. "Feel like answering my questions now?"

Groaning, he gave you what could only be called a pleading expression, "I can't tell you anything more about his name. He'd slaughter me." Kind of a moot point considering your threat, but you could at least stick to topics that maybe wouldn't cost him his life.

"Fine. Tell me about something else then. Like this job he went on. You said it was in Montana, right? What does he have to do that's so urgent in Montana?" Maybe it was once again playing with fire to ask question about Kylo's business, but if he was going to insist on staying in your life, didn't you have a right to know? You were sharing a bed with a man you knew killed for a living; details seemed crucial. Granted you could still hide behind the excuse that Kylo wasn't giving you much choice in the matter, but considering the multiple rounds of consensual sex that was becoming a flimsy defense.

As you turned into your subdivision Vicrul finally gave a tired sounding sigh. "Fine. But you tell him I told you anything and your damn rug is going through a **shredder**. Montana was supposed to wait a few weeks. You know about the attack, right?" He waited for your nod before scratching the back of his neck and going on with his story, "It took a lot of time and a shit load of money, but we finally got a list together of everyone responsible. Montana is home to one of the names on that list."

Just, as you imagined, like Poe had been.

The sobering reality dried up what humor remained in messing with Vicrul's head. That list Kylo and his Knights were systematically working their way through had been what sealed your husband's fate. And while you understood Poe's role in the tragedy in Amsterdam, you still had to wonder how many more dead bodies would pile up before that list was cleared.

You also had to wonder if Kylo was hundreds of miles away torturing information out of someone else.

Irrational and unhealthy as it was, you realized _some_ of the sick feeling in your gut had nothing to do with dread over the potential blood being shed, but jealousy at the thought of Kylo's hands on another woman.

You felt your cheeks warm as you pulled into the driveway, doing your best to keep your depraved thoughts to yourself. The last thing you needed was Vicrul of all people knowing you were becoming possessive of your assassin stalker.

"Why was it so urgent to go now instead of in a few weeks?" You asked, more to distract him than actual curiosity. What did it matter the timing? Either way the unknown person in Montana was as good as dead.

Seemingly oblivious to your internal struggle, he climbed out of the car - stretching his long limbs after being forced into the compact cabin - and walked back to the trunk to retrieve the bags, "The fucker got wise to what was going on and was planning to go underground. He won't be the last. Kylo knew when we started this the people with more resources would figure it out and start preparing. We would have gone after them first but most of them were damn near impossible to find to begin with." He sounded frustrated, leaving you to wonder how long he'd been helping Kylo with his revenge, and how much longer it would take to satisfy him.

Not allowing you to help with the bags, Vicrul shut the trunk and lead the way to your front door. "What if that's some kind of sign?" You asked, moving around him to unlock and hold the door open, "Don't get me wrong, the people who caused that explosion deserve to be brought to justice, but there are other ways of getting it besides Kylo putting a bullet in their skulls."

Another dark look crossed his features at something you'd said, but rather than elaborate he shrugged, "Try telling your boy that." Leaving you in the doorway he headed for the kitchen, seeming relieved for a moment of peace.

You were far from finished questioning him, but you knew you were asking a lot from him. You doubted he had much clue what was safe to tell you and what wasn't. You weren't even sure what was safe to ask. Kylo had been somewhat open with you thus far, but only in regards to things that directly affected you. Would he be okay with Vicrul sharing so much detail about the list?

A part of you burned to ask who it was that Kylo lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to violate his privacy that way. Much as you might want to fill in the pieces of the puzzle you knew enough about loss to know no one had the right to dictate if and when you shared that pain with anyone.

Sighing, you closed the door and slowly made your way to the kitchen, still mulling over everything you'd learned and still wanted to know.

When you got to the kitchen your next question was already on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped short when you found him emptying another bag of dino nuggets on to a cookie sheet. Seriously, when did he have the time to load your freezer with chicken nuggets? "Do you have some kind of unlimited supply of those things?"

Popping the cookie sheet into the oven Vicrul turned back to you with a raised brow, "Have you ever lived with seven meathead guys in one house? I have to eat them when I can. Ushar ate my last bag. Broke his nose during training right after but I'm still pissed." He shook his head as if you were discussing one of the world's greatest tragedies.

"You broke his nose because he ate your chicken nuggets?" You asked incredulously, waiting unsuccessfully for the punchline that never came. "Couldn't you just go to a drive through and get more?"

Whipping his head around he looked at you like you'd grown another head. "These aren't just _regular_ chicken nuggets, Angel. They're superior. And I don't share." The last sentence was spoken pointedly. Even though he was in your home, using your oven, he had no intention of sharing with you.

"Fine. You can give me more information instead, Vernon." He rolled his eyes while you pulled out one of the stools from underneath the kitchen island and sat down, watching as he busied himself with setting a timer. "So how long have you guys been doing the whole murdery boy band thing? And why does Kylo call you Knights?"

Vicrul snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement. Turning back to you he came to stand on the opposite side of the island, leaning his elbows on the wooden surface, "Different amounts of time for all of us, but a while. The Knight thing was something Ap'Lek came up with one night in Moscow after we partook in a few too many bottles of vodka and blondes. Anything else you want to blackmail out of me?" He asked with a smirk, looking you up and down, assessing. "I underestimated you. That crying bit was pretty good. Kylo would have fallen for it, too. He told me if you have so much as a paper cut when he gets back the disembowelment begins shortly after."

"You haven't answered all my questions, calling him isn't off the table." You reminded him with a smirk of your own, enjoying the way his face fell into a pout. Though admittedly Kylo's overprotective was of you - when it came to other people at least - made your stomach full with butterflies. "Has he always been like this?" You finally asked, your own face falling as you considered the possibility of being one of many.

The timer on the oven spared him an immediate answer. Unwilling to risk the safety of his snack he grabbed an oven mitt from the counter and pulled the pan out, setting it down on top of the oven. "You have any barbecue sauce?" He asked over his shoulder, prodding one of the nuggets with his finger, you assumed checking for crispness.

Humoring him, you climbed off your stool and turned to the fridge. Pulling open the door you grabbed a bottle from the side door and brought it back to the island, setting it down with a loud think. "There's your sauce. Now _talk_."

Somehow knowing his way around your kitchen, Vicrul reached into the cabinet beside the stove and grabbed a plate. Heedless of the heat, he dumped the nuggets on it and walked back to the island. Setting his plate down he pulled out a stool and sat across from you. "He's an obsessive man. Gets laser focused on a lot of things." He watched you attempt to conceal your disappointment - why did you even care if he commonly invaded women's lives and turned their senses upside down? - as he squirted some sauce on his plate. "Not about women, though. Before you I don't think he ever even fucked the same girl twice. Look," grabbing a nugget he dipped it in the sauce and popped it in his mouth, savoring the taste before grabbing another and using it to point at you, "I know this is a messed up situation with your ex and all, but he does care about you. Don't ask me why or why it's in the way it is, but he does. Fucked up or not, it's rare for someone to actually give a damn about you who doesn't have to."

Turning his words over in your head, you opted not to argue the obvious things. He knew you were being threatened, that Kylo came into your life by nearly killing you. The kidnapping threat hanging over your head like an ax. It wasn't news to him, yet he still held the same opinion.

Granted, maybe an assassin wasn't the best person to take life advice from, but then again you knew you weren't some innocent victim looking for a way out. You'd been genuinely forced into very little where your 'relationship' with Kylo was concerned.

"I won't lie to you. He's an asshole. Temper like a rabid bear. Mommy and daddy issues that would scare Dr. Phil shitless. And after what happened in Amsterdam he's been pretty messed up. But at the end of the day I don't work with him for the paycheck." Vicrul concluded, clearly done discussing the subject. Before you could try and argue he pushed his plate of nuggets towards you. When you raised your brows in surprise he shrugged, "Don't let it go to your head, Angel."

Unable to fight a smile you grabbed a nugget, "Wouldn't dream of it, Vinny."

***********

Later that night, after you'd left Vicrul snoring on the couch, his popcorn spills caught by the trash bag you'd laid out on the floor, you'd finally fallen into a fitful sleep. No matter how exhausted you were your mind wouldn't stop spinning with everything you'd learned about Kylo.

And everything that still haunted you.

His profession wasn't something you took lightly. Vicrul had let it slip that aside from the people on the list from the attack, their targets were usually high profile criminals. Drug lords. Arms dealers. Serial killers. Generally people the world didn't mourn. But murder was still murder. Even if you weren't morally opposed to it, you couldn't ignore the reality that one day it was probably going to catch up with him. Either in the form of arrest or a rival or a target that fought back a little too well.

But what really haunted you was the fact that you were thinking about a future with Kylo. And not in the short term, how-can-I-plan-my-next-escape-attempt kind of way, but in that you were beginning to have trouble picturing weeks, months, even years ahead without him in your life.

You didn't even know where he was and he had you up half the night thinking about him. Irritably you'd made your third mental note of the day to get some answers from Kylo when he returned home. If this was all some game he was playing or a passing phase the least he could do was tell you so you could stop torturing yourself.

When you finally did drift off images of him filled your mind. First in the form of memories of the night he'd first broken in, then of the last several days. Then to a myriad of what if's; where he'd been hiding during Poe's funeral, what you would have done had you seen him. If he'd stayed the night he'd tortured you, what would have happened?

Was he okay?

Vicrul hadn't offered any updates on his whereabouts or safety. And you couldn't take his lack of outward nonchalance as a reassurance; you got the feeling he was the kind of guy that would cracked jokes while the Titanic **sank**.

You knew, in theory, that he could take care of himself, but it sounded like the person he'd gone after was well aware their life was in danger. Self preservation was a strong impulse; you seriously doubted the odds someone with no will to fight back would have ended up on that list.

Kylo had so completely dominated your thoughts you began to think you could smell his scent in your sleep. The sweet musk of his cologne and natural scent that reminded you of leather and oak. A smell that now filled you with arousal and anticipation instead of dread.

You groaned in exhausted frustration, slapping the pillow beneath you as if it were responsible for your insomnia.

A soft, melodic chuckle met your irrational anger, "Are you always so violent in your sleep, princess?"

 _That_ was most definitely not in your imagination.

Your eyes sprung open to find him crawling up the bed towards you, hovering over you, damp hair hanging down and tickling your skin when he bent to claim your unsuspecting lips in a desirous kiss that would have left you weak in the knees were you not laying down. He pressed against you, his weight pinning you down and surrounding you with warmth. His hands settled against your hip and the side of your neck, his tongue pushing into your mouth, twinning with yours as if it wasn't humanly possible to get close enough to you. Too relieved to see him alive and well no thought of denying him anything crossed your mind. Instead your hands - by their own volition - rose to his hips, urging him closer still.

"Had I known you would miss me that much," he murmured against your lips, finally allowing you both to gasp in a breath, "I would have gone out of town sooner." He teased, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth up. Your response, which wasn't that of someone who _missed_ him, was swallowed up with another kiss that wiped them from your memory. It was a wonder you could remember your own _name_ when he broke away again, "For what it's worth, I hated being away from you, too." He admittedly quietly.

Taking a moment to give him a once over you realized he looked as tired as you felt. Though he'd clearly just showered, it didn't appear to have done much to revive him. You wondered how much, if at all, he'd slept since leaving a few days before. But aside from a bruise on his left cheekbone, he appeared otherwise unharmed. The first thing you should have felt was pity or disgust for the life that you were sure had been lost...instead, you couldn't seem to feel anything but a tidal wave of **relief** that he made it home safely. "I didn't know you were coming back tonight. Vicrul hasn't told me much." Well, not about his whereabouts, anyway.

To your surprise he chuckled darkly as he bent and began kissing your neck, sending a wave of electricity across your skin, "No? According to him he told you quite a bit, my curious little kitten. He also tells me you're an accomplished blackmailer."

Ignoring the brief flare of embarrassment that Kylo _already_ knew about your efforts to find out more about him, you chose to focus instead on your outrage that Vicrul had tattled on you like a three year old. "That little bitch." You muttered. You'd shared Dino nuggets. Didn't that mean anything to him? When Kylo leaned up his elbow to meet your gaze again you bit your lower lip for a moment, his unreadable expression making you nervous, "Are you mad?"

"That you wanted to know more about me?" He questioned, his hand drifting away from your neck to capture a lock of your hair. He studied it in the dim glow from the bedside lamp you'd forgotten to turn off before falling asleep before looking back at you, "Of course not. But I wish you'd just asked me. Though I suppose we didn't have much time for talking a few nights ago." Those dark amber eyes darkened with lust at the memories, the hand on your hip tightening. You could already feel how hard he was through his jeans; your oversized night shirt doing little to conceal anything from you. Or, more accurately, you from him. For the time time he seemed to realize that. His hand drifted down your body from your head, down your neck and collarbone, fingers pausing to pinch your already hardened nipple through the thin fabric. You did nothing to stifle your gasp of need, doubts replaced by naked hunger. A hint of deviousness played in his expression as he trailed his hand down your stomach, not stopping until he reached the hem of your shirt resting on your upper thighs. Tortuously slow, he lifted the hem out of the way until his hand cupped your naked sex. Approval gleamed in his eyes, "No panties, princess? We should make that a permanent thing. I like the idea of always having you ready for me." His middle finger slowly dipped through your folds, finding you already wet with need for him. A second finger joined the first, eliciting a soft moon from your lips, "It's not too late for you to try to run." He teased, though his bruising grip on your hip suggested otherwise.

Maybe if you hadn't spent the last forty eight hours sick with worry for his life you might have taken him up on his offer, but your self control where he was concerned was non-existent. You thought back to the day when he'd told you that he wanted to make you as desperate for him as he was for you...how far was he from accomplishing that goal?

Tilting your hips up to meet his hand, his fingers pumping into you at a faster and faster pace, you met his gaze knowing the desire burning in his was reflected in your own, "Shut up and fuck me."

With some mixture of a groan and a growl you found yourself flipped easily on to your stomach, his fingers disappointingly disappearing. He shifted behind you, making quick work of shedding his clothes. He urged your thighs further apart before you felt an unexpected slap against your ass that sent a wave of liquid heat to your core, "Ass up, babygirl."

You unhesitatingly obeyed before you felt the tip of his shaft rubbing against your sex, plunging into you in one smooth motion. A loud moan broke from your lips, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. You were wet, but even so his size took getting used to. When he pushed your shirt up and out of the way you hurriedly lifted your hands up so he could slide it off your body and toss it to the floor. One hand reached around you to begin toying with your throbbing clit as your walls stretched to accommodate him; the other fisted into your hair, "You feel so fucking good."

After a few moments he began to move inside you, his thrusts picking up speed. His thumb against your clit, the pad of calloused skin created the kind of delicious friction that already had you building, "Kylo please, right - ah - there," your pleas tumbled out into nonsense, but he seemed to understand what you needed.

You felt every inch of him; the hand in your hair, his lips against your bare shoulder, his hips grinding into you as he plunged deeper and deeper with each powerful thrust, his legs tangled with yours. The sweat of sweat and sex hung in the air, as thick and tangible as smoke. You'd never felt so _connected_ to another person before. Not even with Poe. Not that your sex life had suffered with him, you both knew how to get each other off, but you hadn't known until you met Kylo it was even possible to feel like _this_.

Your skin was on fire, desperate, burning for his touch. Your body _screaming_ for possession. His low grunts were met with your breathless moans, the bite of your hair being pulled behind you and the overwhelming feeling of fullness as his cock roughly drove into your swollen entrance morphing from pain to pleasure you could hardly tell the difference. All you knew was you could have died in that moment and been completely content.

"That's it princess, let me hear you," he growled, pressing down harder on your clit, a breathless groan spilling from his mouth as your hips buckled against him. Your hands had become like **claws** against the sheets, gripping, digging into them as sensation clouded everything else from your mind. You were sure you'd never wanted anything more than _him._

"Stars, **yes**!" You screamed against the soft fabric beneath you as he rammed into your g-spot, his thumb still furiously toying with your clit. He jerked your head back, his hot breath against your neck, a sharp _bite_ to your sensitive skin pushing you so close to the edge you could see the stars you exclaimed dance across your vision. "I'm coming, I - fuck. Kylo I need you!"

You shattered only moments before he did; your screams of bliss as entwined as your bodies. You felt his hot seed release deep in your core as he collapsed against you, both of you too breathless to form so much as a single coherent word. Still buried inside you from behind, his arms wrapped around you, hugging you close so you could every inch of sweat drenched skin. "Say it again," he finally murmured against your shoulder, his grip refusing to let you move so much as an inch. Still so wrapped up in your post-orgasm high you didn't even register the discomfort. But you knew exactly what he was referring to. "Tell me again who you belong to, and fucking _mean it_ this time."

The darkness in his tone, of his demand should have scared you. At the very least put you on edge. But instead they filled you with something you had no idea until that moment how much you needed; an incredibly undeniable sense of **belonging**. You'd told him once before you were his, but you hadn't been willing to believe it, or embrace it in the shadow of the fear still plaguing you. But you knew now no matter the harsh realities of his life, your memory of or marriage to Poe, or your fears for the future or his threats, you were his.

"I'm yours, Kylo. I swear, only yours." You breathed, your arms folding over his, cementing his hold around you.

****************

This time when you were roused from sleep you'd been in a blissful, sated slumber. After disentangling yourselves long to clean up you'd tumbled back into bed together, intending to sleep but that fire burning between you ignited again. Three more times for him, twice for you until he woke you from near-unconsciousness with his tongue against your clit, refusing to allow you rest until you came again. When he kissed you he tasted of _you_. You'd fallen asleep facing one another, your arms clinging to one another as if you couldn't stand an inch of distance even in sleep.

But now instead of being warmly wrapped against you, he stood beside the bed, fully dressed and hovering over you with an expression that ranged from amusement to carnal need. You blinked a few times as he rubbed your naked back. Instinctively you glanced towards the windows, able to tell it was dark outside even with the shades drawn. Confusion muddled your sleep deprived brain, "What's going on? Get back in bed." You pouted grumpily, turning and grabbing his arm, your eyes already drifting closed again.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tasked, chuckling as he moved his hand to run through your hair, still trying to keep you awake, "You can sleep in the car."

Opening only one eye you felt your brows pull together, "The car?"

"Yes baby," he murmured patiently, his arms finally sliding around you when it was clear you weren't going to get up on your own. Cradling you to his chest he carried you into the bathroom, "I owe you a date, remember?"

*****************

**(** a/n **)**

a date with Kylo? yes please. a 5:00 a.m. wake up call? fuck you space daddy but ok if you insist.

please comment/vote, I love hearing from you guys! thank you so much again for your support for this story, only 8 chapters in and we already have 2.5k views. you have no idea how much that means to me!

until next time <3


	9. Firsts

TWs: mentions of violence and murder, dub-con, smut, minor degradation, implied threats of violence/blackmail.   
  


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A date with Kylo Ren.

Five words you never thought you'd be stringing together into a cohesive sentence.

Yet there you sat in the front seat of his SUV, on the way to a location he'd still yet to disclose. You might have argued more, but considering the early hour and his willingness to stop for coffee along the way you hadn't pressed the issue much. At least, not _too_ much.

After he'd casually explained that he falsely reported a gas leak in your office building that would take at least two days for the city to fully investigate and clear the building for reopening - not so inadvertently freeing you from work - you'd tried to convince him it was time to see a shrink for whatever possessed him to take such extreme lengths. Then again, in the grand scheme of his many questionable and illegal acts a false alarm to the city probably didn't even crack the top twenty five. But you were still overwhelmed and clueless as to how to fit someone so unhindered by the regular norms and rules of society into your life.

And then once you realized you were again thinking about a future with Kylo you'd decided silence was your best option. Your promise from only a few hours before to be his with his arms wrapped tightly around you still replayed through your mind on repeat, baffled as to how he'd once again managed to break through your every defense until you were little more than a puddle at his feet.

Kylo, on the other hand, seemed to have different ideas. Not only had he woken you up at the crack of dawn for this 'date' he'd planned, but he'd been almost _cheerful_ all morning. Unaffected by the lack of sleep. Leaving the sunroof of the SUV down, the gleam of sunlight - once it rose - rebounding off his dark sunglasses. Driving with one hand on the wheel, the other idly resting on your thigh while he quietly hummed along with the classic rock songs playing on the radio.

Were assassins supposed to _hum_?

"You've been quiet," he observed after a while, glancing your way, watching you polish off your second latte of the morning. He'd ordered nothing but a bottle of water at the last café you stopped at. When you questioned how he was able to function without caffeine he'd shrugged and told you you learn how to fight tiredness when an unplanned nap could get you killed.

You hadn't questioned him any further.

Squeezing your jean-clad thigh, he brought your attention back to the present, "I expected at least another lecture or appointment with the local Dr. Phil." He added, his tone teasing, dark amber eyes alight with mischief. As if you could force him into doing anything he didn't want to. He wasn't Vicrul who you could scare into compliance with the threat of Kylo's anger, or bribe with a plate of dino nuggets if he was hungry enough.

Rolling you eyes, you set your empty cup down in the drink holder, "You don't listen to my lectures. And if we actually told a therapist about all of _this_ ," you waved your hand vaguely between the two of you, trusting he would understand your lack of a description of the 'connection' he was so certain existed, "we'd both end up in the psych ward." Aside from the agents and the medical staff who'd been enlisted to help you after Poe's death, you doubted anyone would believe everything that had taken place between the two of you without video evidence and a signed affidavit from the Pope.

Kylo looked thoughtful for only a moment before he shrugged. Considering his cavalier attitude towards the majority of his actions where you were concerned, maybe it wasn't such a stretch to think he put murder, stalking, and general insanity in the 'normal' pile. "Fair enough. I assumed you were memorizing our route for your inevitable escape attempt."

He was making a visible effort not to laugh as you narrowed your eyes dangerously at him. Had you had any coffee left - and it wouldn't have been a terrible **waste** of caffeine - you might have considered dumping it in his lap. "Ha ha." you grumbled, stubbornly shoving his hand off your thigh that he promptly returned. When you reached for him again he snatched both of your wrists in his large hand, looking smug as he held them on your lap despite your efforts to pull them away. "Why would I try and escape from a date? It's not like you're kid-" you stopped short, exasperation quickly morphing to suspicion. It hadn't occurred to you until then that if he'd intended on kidnapping you, you'd made it painfully _easy_. "You're not kidnapping me, are you?"

"If I were it's a little late to do anything about it," he observed pointedly, nodding out the windshield to the blurred landscape of the highway as he continued to speed down the road. His lips quirked at the slight widening of your eyes, "Relax. You'd know if I was kidnapping you, angel."

If that was meant to be a reassurance, it left a _lot_ to be desired. Though he seemed comfortable taking the teasing approach, the threat of being uprooted from your life wasn't something you took lightly. The two of you may have had an agreement of sorts that he wouldn't do anything drastic so long as you kept his presence in your life a secret, but all you had was his word. The pitiful truth of the matter was that if he decided to break his promise there would be little you could do to stop him.

Still trying to extract your wrists from his grip you let a brief swell of bravery allow you to push the matter further. What better time than in an enclosed space with a man threatening you? "Really? You send a notarized letter or something?" You found it difficult to believe that it would feel much different than anything else he'd surprised you with since the night you met him. Catching you off guard was a **talent** of his.

Though in this instance you seemed to have taken him by surprise. After the first few days when you'd been too overwhelmed and scared to question him much, the longer he inserted himself into your life the more you found yourself discontent with only the information he offered. He knew far more about you than you did him and the uneven playing field wasn't something you were going to humor long term.

"Alright, I'll play." Kylo murmured thoughtfully, finally releasing your wrists but taking your left hand in his. Anywhere else you might have assumed it was his insurance to keep you from running, but in a moving vehicle it was hardly a concern. He just seemed to enjoy always having some form of psychical contact. "Had you been conscious - which is **doubtful** , it would be considerably easier for both of us for you to sleep through it - I wouldn't lure you into the car under false pretenses. We're beyond that, I think. And it takes too long. I'd prefer you come willingly but if you'd prefer the alternative I'm not opposed to getting _creative_."

The contemplative, if not methodical approach he took to his explanation unsettled you. How long had he been thinking about this? Or alternately, was he so experienced in living outside the law he could throw one together with only a few seconds of thought? "So that'd be it? Another needle to the neck and I wake up in China?" You didn't have any idea where Kylo's safehouses were - it was one of the questions Vicrul had outright refused to answer as well - but it was oddly satisfying to be a part of the dialogue. Not that it gave you a say in his plans, but at least he wouldn't be able to keep claiming you were a willing participant.

"Do you want to go to China? I have a few properties in Asia." He countered, curiously glancing your way. As casually as if he was asking what you wanted for dinner.

So much for not letting him completely stun you into silence anymore.

"How considerate of you to have options for your kidnapping victims." You muttered, trying and failing to keep the edginess from your voice.

You watched his brows knit together, gaze temporarily drifting from you as he passed someone in the left hand lane poking along a solid ten miles under the speed limit. "You'd be the first," he stipulated, expression shifting to something akin to confusion, "Why are you so stuck on this? I told you, as long as you don't do anything to force my hand, I don't want it to go that far. I know your life is important to you."

"Because I don't know what the fuck this is, Kylo." You exclaimed in frustration. How he didn't realize that he was a walking conundrum was beyond you. No matter his lifestyle he had to realize how difficult it was for you to try and fit him into your perfectly average one. "You're not some random guy I started seeing; you bulldozed your way into my life and I don't know from one second to the next if I'm part of your revenge project or your strange equivalent of a girlfriend. You say you want me to be happy but you're also threatening me and breaking into my house. How am I supposed to play a game only you know the rules to?"

The words tumbled from your mouth without control; nearly without your _consent_. But the longer you spoke the more you realized how desperate you really were to understand where your non-relationship with Kylo was going.

You were quickly losing your ability to deny the feelings you had for him, and maybe you were ready to stop fighting him at every turn, but you needed him to meet you halfway. You needed to stop feeling like you were waiting for an **axe** to fall.

Kylo seemed to be considering your minor outburst. His expression was unreadable, eyes still on the road in front of you, but his thumb tracing over the back of your hand was a strange sort of comfort.

"You're not part of my revenge." He confirmed again quietly, and you didn't have it in you to doubt the sincerity of his tone. He'd promised you before that stalking you had nothing to do with Poe, but you felt a weight lift off your chest to hear him admit that his continued presence wasn't part of his plan to find justice for his lost loved one. "I'm not playing a game, there aren't rules to be set or explained. My world is vastly more complicated than yours in many ways, but it's also much simpler. If I were some 'random guy' you met in a club there would be a slew of awkward firsts and non-communicated expectations. What you're used to, what I'm sure you shared with your ex husband is the game that comes with rules. Mine is as simple as this; I wanted you, so I came back for you. You want me too, no matter how much you denied it, so I stayed. Yes there are certain odds and ends that come with my life, but I think if you stopped trying to fit me into the world you're accustomed to you wouldn't find it so **difficult** to adapt."

Now it was your turn to mull over his argument. Whatever you'd expected as a response, that hadn't been it. As unlawful as Kylo was, his unabashed honesty was perhaps the thing that baffled you the most. Even though you'd exchanged vows with Poe, known him _years_ longer than you had Kylo, you couldn't remember ever having such an open conversation with him. Not just near the end when his thinking was so addled with alcohol - and _guilt_ , as you now knew - but even before then you couldn't remember him ever so unhesitatingly telling you exactly what was on his mind when it came to difficult subjects.

But the flipside to Kylo's honesty was that it often forced you to confront demons you weren't sure you were ready to; namely, your desire to understand your husband's murderer.

Not for closure, but so you could figure out how to fit him into your life.

"Let's say you're right, that it really is as easy as a shift in perspective. How does this work long term? I can't keep you a secret forever. Even if the feds weren't an issue what happens if someone figures it out?" It wasn't just your future up in the air. That fact hadn't escaped you the entire time. You were potentially endangering your loved ones. And if you crossed that line from being essentially Kylo's hostage to his accomplice were you not potentially facing legal consequences if something went wrong?

"I've already fallen off their radar; replaced by some ring of hijackers that accidentally caused the death of a few government officials during a job." He shook his head, looking both disappointed and _disapproving_. As if he was offended by the idea of being replaced. Was being America's most wanted actually a competition? "You forget angel, my image still hadn't been captured. I could probably walk through FBI headquarters without attracting any more attention than you. And as long as you exclude the colorful details to your loved ones, what's the harm in telling them you're finally moving on with your life?"

On some small level it both saddened and angered you that Poe's murder had already been more or less brushed under the rug. Even though you were technically a part of the reason the crime remained unsolved, and that Poe was _hardly_ some innocent victim, for the sake of the man he once was and his still-grieving parents you felt uneasy seeing his life so conveniently packed away.

On another, perhaps one ruled more by selfish impulses, you were oddly flattered by the idea that he already had everything figured out.

Was it possible for it really to be that simple?

"You're overthinking again." Kylo advised from beside you after a few long moments of silence, his lips against your knuckles again bringing you back to the present. "This can work. You just need to let go of the past."

The problem was, it wasn't the past making you hesitate. Not really.

It was the **future** that made you think you were walking down a path there would be no coming back from.

***************************

The two of you lapsed into the silence again after that, each lost in you own world of thought. Or so you assumed. Kylo clearly wasn't as plagued by the anxiety of what ifs the way you were, but he'd had a lot longer to come to terms with the reality of his life than you had. He also wasn't the one still struggling with the guilt of realizing that not only were you attracted to a man who was wanted for more crimes than you'd probably ever even know about, but that your grief for Poe was lessening each day because you wanted his _murderer_ more than his **memory**.

It wasn't until you passed a mile marker listing upcoming exits off the highway that you realized the direction you were heading, which allowed you a distraction from the pitfall that your subconscious had become.

"We're going to the beach?" you questioned, not opposed to the idea, but realizing you had a difficult time picturing Kylo there. Actually you had a hard time envisioning him doing _anything_ leisurely. Thus far your relationship existed mostly within the borders of your home, and he always seemed so intense. Alert. Ready for anything. It was hard to picture him relaxing on a beach.

"I know it's not summer but it's a warm day. I figured you'd want to do something exciting with your time off." Kylo mused as he steered the SUV off the exit that led towards one of the smaller, less touristy beaches. You'd heard of the island before, but you'd never been. The few beach trips you'd taken with Poe or friends had always been to one of the more popular locations. "And I needed an excuse to get you in a bikini." He added a moment later, lips twitching at the corners of his mouth when you rolled your eyes.

Glancing down at your travel worn clothes you rose a brow, "Hate to break it to you perv, but I didn't bring a b-" you paused when he nodded towards the backseat. Following his gesture you realized his infamous black duffle bag was on the floor. Your cheeks warmed briefly when you remembered what that bag had been filled with when he 'punished' you only a few days before. "If you weren't so **insane** you would have made someone a great errand boy." The level of preparedness he brought to even mundane settings was impressive. You reached for one of the bottles of water he'd picked up at your last stop, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

He nodded slowly, conceding the point, before remarking thoughtfully "You would have made a great runner if you weren't so fucking _terrible_ at getting away."

Had you not already swallowed you were certain you would have choked. Looking his way, noting the way he poorly contained his humor as he feigned interest in an upcoming stoplight that still remained green, you pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, "I don't know when, or how, but you'll pay for that some day." You promised darkly.

"Perhaps," he mused beside you, a chuckle finally breaking free from his lips, apparently unable to contain himself anymore, "but you'd have to catch me first."  
  
  


**********************   
  
  
  


After crossing a few short bridges you made it on to the island in record time thanks to the lack of traffic. Your longest stop was waiting for one of the lower bridges at the waterway to open for passing boats since you'd arrived at the top of the hour when the bridge was due to open. You imagined it was one of the few beaches left in the state with such an old fashioned practice; the larger towns had already since pushed ahead projects to build higher ones.

But you liked the uncrowded feel of the island. The undeveloped beauty that still existed. Most commercial beaches were overrun with ugly McMansions and shops, trying to capitalize on the tourist season.

When you'd arrived at the public access - public may have been in the name but yours was the only car in the lot - you went your separate ways to change into the beachwear he'd bought for you. A good thing too, considering your chance for revenge came the moment he parked the car. With an overexaggerated motion of losing your grip on your water bottle that no one would have believed, you dumped 32 ounces of water on his lap.

"I'm so sorry," you'd gasped, pressing your hand to your chest in a way that would have made Scarlet O'Hara proud, "clumsy me."

Though he'd sworn escape wasn't one of your skills you made it into the nearby cabana style ladies' room without an issue, hearing him call out behind you only once the wooden door was closed behind you, _I know where you live_.

As if you needed to be reminded of **that**.

Shedding your clothes you changed into the - admittedly stunning - black bikini and knit black coverup, admiring the way it perfectly adorned your curves and pointedly ignoring the price tag after a glance told you he'd spent $1500.00 on the set. Who spent that kind of money on three scraps of fabric?

Once you'd tied your hair up in a bun, slid on the black flip flops he'd included in your things, and dug your sunglasses from your bag you headed back outside, another falsely innocent comment about his Dasni-dampened crotch until you caught sight of him waiting for you.

Though by now you'd seen every inch of him, it was impossible not be struck by how _incredible_ he was. His black swim trunks hung low on his hips, giving you an uninterrupted view of his broad, sculpted chest. The rippling muscles of his abs. His fair skin painted with a mix of tattoos and old scars. It occurred to you then he'd still not told you anything about them. The tattoos at least; you weren't sure you wanted to know where all the scars had come from. The number of times his history nearly cost him his **life**.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he approached you, oblivious to your internal struggle with his sheer perfection. He had a large tote bag slung over his shoulder, but he caught your hand with his free one, tugging you towards the wood planked access.

"Just admiring the view," you said as you twined your fingers with his, grinning mischievously when you reached the peak just above the dunes, the expanse of the water unfolding before you. "Of the water." You added, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the irritable glance he threw your way.

The moment you reached the bottom of the stairs, your toes not even touching the smooth sand, he bent and tossed you over his shoulder. Effortlessly carrying you and the bag and still managing to slap his palm across your exposed ass, "Brat." he accused, though he sounded like he was having nearly as much trouble not laughing as you were.

From what you could tell the beach was nearly deserted. There were a few people off in the distance, but they were probably more than a quarter of a mile away. Kylo had been right about it technically being the off season, but you'd assumed there would be more people taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. Not that you were complaining about not having to share the pristine beach laid out before you.

Reaching what he must have deemed a satisfactory spot he dropped you back to your feet and let the bag fall to the sand. He grabbed a crimson colored blanket from the bag and spread it out. He looked down at the seemingly harmless fabric for several long moments, expression turning troubled. You thought back to the night he told you that you retreated when you thought of Poe, and the nightmare you'd woken him from, wondering if he didn't cope in a similar way.

Before you could press him, he nodded towards the water, "Let's go for a swim."

"You know women don't come to the beach to swim, right?" You raised a brow as you pulled your coverup over your head and set it down on the blanket. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done more than gotten your toes wet. The last time you'd been at the beach it had been with Poe, his best friend Finn, and his new girlfriend Rose. Poe and Finn had spent hours surfing and on jet skis, trying one death defying stunt after another while you and Rose had spent the afternoon working on tans and polishing off an exceptional bottle of pinot. "Kylo..."

Before you could blink you were over his shoulder again, squealing as he jogged towards the surf, ignoring your increasingly violent death threats until he plunged into the chilly water. When you both came up for air his arms were still around you. Though you couldn't feel the ocean floor his feet still seemed to be touching the sand.

Damn him and his massive body.

"Asshole!" You splashed a wave of salty water in his laughing face, though you couldn't keep from joining him. In the carefree moments when he let his guard down his joy was infectious. Making you temporarily forget your desire to hold his head underwater.

Whatever adjoining remarks you might have come up with were claimed by his kiss, his lips salty and warm on yours. A hand coming up to curl around the back of your neck, holding you to him as your hands moved to his shoulders. Small waves rocked into you, but the sting of the sea water standing on your lashes hardly registered. His other hand squeezed your hip roughly, smirking against your lips at your moan. He'd made you crave the roughness, the potential for _violence_ in his hands. Whatever he was doing to you, you weren't coming back from.

Your tongue was the first to slip into the depths of his mouth, hungrily exploring, eager for more even though your muscles still ached from his fierce possession the night before. Though his hands slid around to your ass, squeezing, holding you up, Kylo was the first to break away. Smugness radiated off him in waves. Your need for him was his victory.

"I've turned you into an insatiable little thing." It wasn't a complaint. It wasn't as if he could judge; you could feel his erection against your stomach. The heat burning across your skin completely chasing the chill of the water away. Were it not for him releasing you, forcing you to use your liquified limbs to tread water, your hands had already been inching from his shoulders beneath the surface of the water. Fingers ready to hook into the thin material that kept him from you. The disappointment must have shown in your expression; dark satisfaction danced in his deep amber colored eyes, "I think I like that desperate look in your eyes too much to give you what you want."

He disappeared underneath the water, leaving you both seething and delirious.   
  
  


*****************   
  
  


Despite your earlier protests you enjoyed the swim. Once you got used to the water temperature it was perfect beach weather. The sun shone brightly overhead, warming your skin as you drifted over the surface of the water. You returned to the shore a few times for water, snacks, or more sunblock but the beach never grew more crowded. The few distant dots that had been your only other company packed up and left about an hour in, leaving you to enjoy the stretch of sand and sea alone.

Though the fire remained burning deep in your belly it was nice to do something carefree with Kylo. To hear him laugh. To not have to worry about anything other than dodging waves and retrieving your sunglasses when they slipped from the top of your head to the ocean floor. He seemed to enjoy the same, looking lighter than you'd ever seen him, even sharing a few memories and stories from his past that helped you bridge the gap between your theories and who he actually was.

At least for the most part. Every now and again you would catch him looking off into the distance of the water, or lost in thought as he bent to pick up a stray seashell just out of reach of the tide, but he didn't elaborate. And you didn't push him. You remembered the way people - in their attempts to be helpful - had asked you exactly the **wrong** questions about Poe after the accident. How much a moment of thoughtlessness had been like a dagger in your gut. You'd sworn back then you would never do the same to someone else; you saw no reason to renege on that just because your relationship with Kylo was unusual.

To his credit, his preoccupation was always short lived. The moment he noticed you watching him too closely, or trying to figure out what was going on his head, he was quick to distract you. Challenging you to a race, trying to swim closer to a small pod of dolphins bobbing in the surf nearby. Pulling the secured string of your bikini top, a wicked smirk adorning his lips as he pulled the fabric away with a quick tug.

Considering your lack of an audience you let him win the battle; instead using it against him. Floating on your back and giving him an ample view of your exposed breasts but refusing to let him touch. After a few minutes of toying with him he looked just as _desperate_ as he'd accused you of being.

When the two of you drifted closer to shore, your top still clutched in his hand, you took advantage of his back being turned and tackled him. You suspected he _let_ you send you both to the wet sand beneath your feet, enjoying your enthusiasm too much to ruin it by thwarting your plans. With his back against the sand, the remains of the tide further dampening his dark hair, you shifted on top of him to straddle him. Your hands rested on his chest, tracing over the lines of the tribal-looking tattoo that expanded from one side to the other, "What does this mean?" you asked curiously.

"You expect me to explain a tattoo while you're on top of me with your tits out?" he questioned with a laugh, rolling his hips up to let you feel his hardened length against your barely concealed pussy.

Unable to resist toying with him, you bent down, pressing against his exposed chest. You pressed your lips against his wet, salty skin in a trail of kisses down his chest, gazing up at him through your lashes, fighting a smirk as his hand moved to twine in your hair. "Why not?" you questioned innocently, losing the battle with the smirk as you moved a hand down to let your fingers trace the line of his cock through the slick fabric of his swim trunks and he groaned in appreciation. "It's not _distracting_ , is it?"

With a growl you gasped as your back collided with the sand. Kylo was on top of you a split second later, his knee wedging between your thighs. He hovered over you, a look in his eyes that sent a wave of heat to your core. "My little pet wants to be a tease, does she?" he questioned silkily, your breath coming shorter as he reached between you, fingers deftly slipping around your bikini bottoms to trace his finger along your folds, savoring the wetness there that had nothing to do with the water.

"Just reminding you delayed gratification isn't all it's cracked up to be," you breathlessly responded, a hand raising to his bicep, your nails digging into his skin as he toyed with your clit with such a feather light touch it was enough to drive you insane. He hadn't been wrong when he said he'd made you insatiable; you craved him. "I want you to fuck me. Here." In a past life you weren't sure you ever would have been bold enough to beg to be fucked on a public beach in broad daylight where anyone could be watching. But with Kylo it was different. The thought of someone else seeing your need was exciting.

He slid another finger between your walls, stroking you like the pet he often called you. Chuckling at the way you arched your hips towards him, "Is that what you want? You want me to rip these infuriating bottoms off so I can fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

Once again Kylo managed to prove to you only he could bring out certain desires in you. Poe had tried degrading you once and it had ended with him on the couch and you taking care of your needs with silicone.

You nodded, incapable of coherent thought. That was exactly what you needed. Your hands found their way to the waistband of his trunks, pulling impatiently, "Now. Please."

Finally assisting you he let you pull his trunks down low enough for his cock to spring free from confinement. As he pulled your bottoms down - aided by your eagerly rising hips - he inclined his head, taking your right nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over your hardened flesh. You tilted your head back against the sand, whimpering softly at the sensation.

"Don't get shy on me now," he taunted, teeth grazing your sensitive skin before transferring his attention to your other nipple, sucking amid your mewls of bliss.

Impatient with _his_ teasing you guided him to your entrance yourself, "Now who's being a tease?"

Whatever his intentions may have been to draw out his torment, your touch was all the invitation he needed to allow his fragile self control to snap. He plunged into your depths with one smooth thrust, groaning at the tightness of your walls around him. His eyes rolled back at your pants against his neck, already increasing his pace as he continued toying with your pulsing clit.

Your back slid across the sand, molding and shifting around you. Your brought your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, urging him closer. Harder. The smell of sweat and salt consumed you, the occasional brush of the tide against your skin like a soft, cool caress.

Only the sounds of incoming waves hid your conjoined moans as you continued to climb higher, his punishing pace like a drug. That overwhelming feeling of fullness had become your new homecoming.

"AH! Please, right there. Don't stop." You begged, arching against him, another loud cry tumbling from your lips when you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck. Knowing, and loving that it would leave a mark.

"That's it baby... _fuck_ , you're so good," he grunted into your skin, a hand moving to roughly pull your hair back, exposing your throat to him. "Come for me. Scream. If there's anyone on this fucking island I want them to hear you."

When you came apart it wouldn't have surprised you if everyone in the damn state heard your scream of ecstasy as you cling on to him. Your muscles contracting so violently you saw stars mixed with the bright glare of the sun overhead. He came on seconds after you, filling you with his seed, pinching your clit so the aftershocks felt like the second coming. His deep groan, breathless and filled with unrestrained passion, was the only thing to reach you in the aftermath.   
  
  
  


*****************   
  
  


The majority of the trip home passed in compatible silence. Despite the fact that both of you were still covered in sand and salt - even showering off in the outdoor showers by the access had done little - the delicious soreness of your afternoon on the beach was well worth it. You nodded off more than once, lulled to sleep by the radio and steady motion of the car. His hand absently rubbing your arm.

The sun began its descent, casting a stunning pink-orange glow around you. As if the haze of desire had become a living, breathing light surrounding you. Reminding you that even though you'd never been on less sure footing, you'd never felt so _content_ in all your life. 

You still wanted answers to what had distracted him so much at the beach, but you reminded yourself to give him time. Though he continued to insist - and you believed him - that he didn't hold you responsible for Poe's actions, you imagined his role in the loss of his loved one made it more difficult to confide in you. It was too close to home. Still fighting sleep, you resolved to work off of his timetable when you felt him nudge you awake.

Confused, you opened your eyes to find that he'd just parked in your driveway.

Your _crowded_ driveway.

Whatever lingering tiredness your body may have been clinging to vanished at the sight unfolding before you; your **parents** stood near the walkway to the front door, talking to Vicrul and Trudgen who both looked, for lack of a more fitting word, extremely uncomfortable. And as Kylo cut the ignition to the SUV all eyes turned in your direction.

You felt your heart begin to race, an odd feeling seizing your chest. Something half way between adrenaline and panic. Your mom's eyes, a mirror of your own, widened slightly as she looked between you and Kylo. Your dad looked pissed, gaze swiveling between Kylo's SUVs and the two Knights standing in your driveway as if he couldn't decide which of them he wanted to _kill_ first.

"Don't hurt them." You were more than willing to believe that Kylo had no intention of harming you, but he'd been fairly clear since the beginning that your loved ones - hell anyone who stood in his way - were fair game. Especially if there were to find out who he was, or you were to give anything away that you shouldn't.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as his hand appeared on your knee, squeezing hard. A reminder. A threat. "Do your part and I won't have to." Kylo said quietly, infinitely more calm than you were. You supposed considering his profession meeting your parents was hardly cause for concern. "You can do better than that, pet." He advised when you attempted to rearrange your features into something less petrified.

Before you could stop him, he was climbing out of the SUV, leaving you to scramble out before he could inflict damage you wouldn't be able to undo. It was bad enough Vicrul was there; he'd probably already told your parents the majority of the story and was just moving into graphic descriptions of your new sex life.

"Mom...Dad, what are you guys doing here?" you asked, hurriedly brushing back your messy bun. Your cheeks flamed. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to piece together what the two of you had been doing. You _smelled_ like salt and sex. When Kylo came to join you, standing close but wisely not touching you under your dad's furious gaze, you gestured helplessly towards him, "This is Kylo, he's my...um..."

Secret? Husband's assassin? Tormentor? Murder-y gentleman caller?

"Boyfriend." Kylo finished for you, reaching out to shake your dad's hand. When he crossed his arms instead, Kylo didn't miss a beat. He drew his hand back to his side, unaffected.

You dad's reaction was hardly a surprise. What did surprise you was your mother's reaction. Rather than being apprehensive or hostile as your father was, her expression lit up at the word 'boyfriend'. Smiling widely, she wasted little time in stepping forward and pulling Kylo into a hug. To his credit, he seemed only mildly shocked, lightly wrapping his arms around her for a moment until she released him, "We're so happy to meet you!" she gushed, looking him up and down approvingly. "I'm Katherine but everyone calls me Kit, and this is my husband, Greg."

Was your mom _swooning_ over Kylo?

While you struggled to pick your jaw up off the floor - not easy to do when Vicrul was visibly shaking with laughter behind your parents - your mom turned towards you, her expression immediately becoming something far less friendly, "Where have you _been_? We've been trying to get in touch with you for days. I was so worried sick I finally insisted we drive over here."

In all the excitement of the last few days - and forgetting your phone earlier that morning - you had left them without a means of reaching you, but aside from right after Poe's accident when everyone was convinced you were too fragile to have a moment alone your parents had never been worriers. It wasn't uncommon for you to go a few weeks without talking with your busy schedules. Since when was a few days a big deal?

Before you could manage to find a response Kylo wound an arm around your waist, now apparently more comfortable pulling you to his side, "You'll have to forgive me, Kit. I've been monopolizing her time." He nodded behind your parents to where Vicrul and Trudgen still stood, trying not to seem like they were waiting for orders, "We were just going to have dinner with my friends. Why don't you join us?"

If you weren't terrified that your parents lives were on the line you might have openly let your jaw drop again. How was it that Kylo, domineering, FBI most wanted, _assassin_ Kylo was so good at pretending to be **normal**? If it weren't for you, two steps behind and falling into a cold sweat, there would be virtually no risk of them discovering anything was off about him.

Though your mom clearly wanted to continue giving you the third degree, Kylo's use of her nickname and invitation to dinner seemed to win her over. "Of course we would love to, wouldn't we, Greg?" She asked, though she clearly didn't care about your dad's answer. She looped her arm through Kylo's, pulling him away from you, and lead him towards your front door. Chattering away to him about his impeccable manners and 'nice friends'. Trudgen and Vicrul both shrugged and followed after Kylo.

Dumbfounded, you looked to your dad, who might have been the only other sane person in the vicinity. "What the hell just happened?"

Mirroring Vicrul and Trudgen's shrug, he gave you a confused look, "Don't look at me, Ace. I gave up trying to explain your mother a few decades ago." As you both headed towards the house your dad tossed an arm around your shoulders, mercifully not commenting on your appearance. "If it makes you feel any better, I fucking hate him."   
  
  


*****************   
  
  


If coming home to find Kylo cooking in your kitchen uninvited had been bizarre, watching him interact with your parents while he prepared yet another meal in your kitchen was other worldly.

After you'd gone inside the two of you had immediately gone to freshen up and change. You to your room, and Kylo disappearing into the guest room as if he didn't even know where your bedroom was. A good thing too, since your dad wouldn't stop watching him like he was still considering taking a tire iron to the back of his head.

When you emerged as quickly as you could manage dressed in jeans and a loose fitting tee shirt with your hair still damp from the shower Kylo was already in the kitchen, looking significantly more put together in dark jeans and a dark blue button down. Your parents sat at the island while he had Vicrul stirring something on the stove and Trudgen chopping vegetables for what looked like a stir fry. When he noticed you walk in Kylo had paused from his tasks and turned to kiss your forehead. A seemingly innocent gesture from behind, but he paused just long enough to murmur in your ear.

" _Behave_."

Unlike the note he'd left you where that single word left you with the promise of a night of consequences you were bound to _enjoy_ , this was different. If you let something slip it could cost your parents their lives. You wanted to believe that Kylo wouldn't harm them when he'd gone to so much trouble to fit into your life, but you knew he wasn't likely to let them walk away if they endangered his freedom.

To calm your frayed nerves, you busied yourself with setting the table, keeping a close eye on everyone else in the kitchen. Your dad still seemed defensive, answering Kylo's polite questions with a series of nods and grunts, but otherwise didn't seem suspicious. Your mom, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy to treat him like the second coming of a son in law. Going on and on about how she'd known something had been different about you the last time she'd seen you and now she knew why.

If only she _really_ knew why.

But you weren't going to curse your good luck that she'd taken to him so quickly. While your mom could be on the quirky side, she had a knack for seeing straight through people. And being brutally honest when she did. When you'd introduced her to Poe for the first time and he'd been on his best - and fake - behavior, she told him to cut the bullshit or get out of her house.

Oddly enough even though Kylo was clearly withholding the truth about his profession and his less than chaste intentions with you, he didn't come off as putting on an act. He was still himself, quiet, dry humored, and never without a touch of tenseness. But he seemed to genuinely like your parents, which at least allowed you to breathe a little easier.

"So, how long have you all known each other?" Your mom asked Kylo curiously, referring to Trudgen and Vicrul who were actually doing a halfway decent job of pretending to be helpful friends rather than paid employees. Occasionally you or Kylo would say something that made Vicrul chuckle under his breath, but he'd managed to hold himself together for the most part.

Surprisingly, it was Trudgen who answered her question. He glanced up from chopping a pepper into strips to meet her gaze, "Several years. Kylo and I served together overseas. We met Vicrul after we were discharged." 

Though this dinner was supposedly for your parents to get to know Kylo better, you were learning a few things as well. The fact that Kylo and his Knights had been in some branch of the service was just the most recent. You glanced questioningly at him at Trudgen's explanation but he merely gave a small shake of his head; now wasn't the time to reveal the things you _did_ know about your 'boyfriend' weren't of the legal or honorable variety.

"Military?" Your dad asked, looking between the three of them, seeming maybe a hair less hostile.

"Special Forces. Unfortunately there's not much we're able to disclose." Kylo answered. Maybe you were imagining things, but you thought you caught him sending a warning look to Trudgen. Was it because he was worried about too much being revealed, or he didn't want any of them getting caught in a **lie**?

The conversation moved to safer ground after that, but it did little to calm your nerves. Every topic seemed to hold the potential to put your parents at risk. There were too many questions you didn't know how to answer; and too many that you did but you couldn't even consider telling the truth.

It wasn't easy for you to lie to either of your parents, but especially your mom. She'd always been able to see right through you. There'd just never been this much at stake.

When everyone was nearly finished eating you excused yourself and retreated to the kitchen, in desperate need of a human moment away from prying eyes. Kylo seemed skilled at keeping your parents entertained so you assumed he could handle a few minutes alone.

Back in the kitchen you leaned against the counter, sucking in a deep breath through your nose. Logically you knew you should just be grateful everything was going well so far, but you'd never had to be so careful about every word that came out of your mouth before.

And the thought of the grilling questions you knew both of your parents would have for you the moment they had you alone was enough to make you fly into a full blown panic.

"You're doing well, you should try and calm down."

You looked up in surprise to find Trudgen approaching, giving you what you perceived as a reassuring look. There was an unmistakable gleam of pride in his dark eyes. A strange thing considering your sole interaction with him had been after you ran into him in the middle of the night after he'd broken in. "No one wants to hurt them. Just keep it together a little longer and we'll all be in the clear. I apologize for the intrusion, Vicrul and I were just doing our usual rounds when they showed up. We didn't have the chance to give Kylo a heads up."

You were again surprised at the politeness. You'd assumed that internationally wanted criminals would g waste time with pleasantries, but all three of them had admittedly flawless manners. You were so grateful for their cooperation you'd even called Vicrul by his name.

"It's my fault, I should have been more diligent about returning their messages. I just don't know how to explain all this without putting them in danger." You admittedly, oddly comfortable confiding in him. Though you didn't know Trudgen well, his quiet presence was a comfort. And from what Kylo had told you about his Knights, he was closest to Trudgen.

He nodded once, pausing to listen to the conversation drifting in from the dining room. Kylo asking your dad about his career, "That part never gets easier. You just get better at lying."

You felt your brows raise. You hadn't expected advice or sympathy from him. Did he have people in his life too that he couldn't safely expose the truth to? "You sound like you speak from experience?" You hedged, curious to know more now.

"Of course I do. I wasn't born into this life. I chose it, and that comes with consequences. Being less than forthcoming with loved ones is one of them." He explained, running a hand through his short, dark hair before settling his hands in his pockets. He seemed to have trouble keeping his hands still. You'd noticed more than once that if he didn't have a task to work on, he often tapped them on his thighs or toyed with a loose thread on the hem of his tee shirt.

You didn't point out that you hadn't exactly _chosen_ this. Yes you were cooperating, but was it fair to say you'd given yourself over to a life where you would always be stuck twisting the truth?

Instead, grasping on to the distraction and further feeling the weight lift off your chest, you nodded towards the dining room, "What you told them about serving with Kylo, was that true?"

Trudgen followed your gaze, quiet for a few long moments. Perhaps considering how much Kylo would want him to tell you? Vicrul hadn't told you the full story, but he'd given enough away for you to know that Kylo had told his Knights there was information that you either weren't privy to, or that he wanted to tell you himself.

"Mostly. The special forces part was a bit of a stretch. What we were there's not an _official_ title for." There was an edge to his voice, a resentment that was tangible but clearly not something he was planning to elaborate on. "We should get back in there. If they run out of material Vicrul might start sharing some of his non-parent approved stories."

Sucking in a final breath you nodded, feeling infinitely better than when you'd left the dining room a few minutes before. You didn't know how to express your gratitude, but you hoped Trudgen could sense it. "I'm kind of impressed with him. I thought all he ate were dino nuggets." Though you noticed he pushed most of his vegetables around his plate he had eaten some actual food.

But Trudgen simply rolled his eyes, "He ate a bag of them before we came over."   
  
  


*************  
  
  


When dinner was done everyone helped with clean up, picking away leftovers and loading the dishwasher in record time. Having something to do kept the conversation from going into dangerous territory, and mercifully when the kitchen was clean your parents announced they needed to head home. Thanks to your dad's inability to stop taking in animals they had five dogs at the house now who if left unattended too long tended to get into _trouble_.

Your dad surprised you by shaking Kylo's hand - squeezing harder than necessary - before giving you a brief hug. He retreated to the car after nodding his goodbyes to Trudgen and Vicrul.

Your mom hugged everyone, unabashed at her quick comfort level with a room full of men she hadn't known only a few hours before. She murmured something to Kylo when she hugged him that you didn't catch, but he nodded solemnly when she pulled away.

You walked her to the door, breathing what you hope was your last sigh of relief when she wrapped her arms around you, "He's an interesting man. I like him." She said quietly, giving you a wink when she stepped back, "He's **hot** too."

Ignoring your scandalized expression she giggled and slipped out the door.

Vicrul's loud, booming laugh stole your attention the moment the door closed. He was standing closer than you realized and clearly overheard your mom's confession. "You should see your face," he wheezed out, unbothered by your glare.

"You can go now too, _Voldemort_." You growled, crossing your arms and nodding to the door, trying and failing to will the blush from your cheeks.

Though your irritation had done nothing to discourage his finding humor in your mom having the hots for Kylo, being addressed as the 'dark lord' had a much more immediate effect. He glared at you, pointing a threatening finger in your direction, "You take that the fuck back."

The sound of Kylo's phone buzzing from the side table near the door where he'd left it charging interrupted your sparring match with a still-highly offended Vicrul. "Can you bring that in here?" Kylo called from the kitchen. You assumed he was talking to Vicrul, but with nothing else to do you opted to be helpful. Stifling a giggle at the expression on his face, you side stepped him and grabbed Kylo's phone, unplugging it from the charger.

And immediately _froze_ when you saw what was on the screen.

Though the phone was locked and you couldn't see the full text, you could see the image he'd received and the first few sentences. You hadn't intended on looking at his phone, but one glance down and now you couldn't look away. Either the facial recognition on his phone was malfunctioning or he'd turned it off.

There wasn't a name associated with the text; in the number was listed as 'Private'. On the screen was an image of a young man, around your age, ebony complexion, short and dark hair. To call it candid was being overly generous, the word you assumed applied was ' _surveillance_ '. It was a closeup of him at what looked like a park, his smile bright. Eyes kind, looking fondly at someone or something.

Underneath the picture was the beginnings of the text; **_New name for your list. Finn Duncan. Poe Dameron's accomplice. Tracked him to Virginia...._**

Finn wasn't Poe's _accomplice_. He was his best friend. And somehow he'd become Kylo's next target.

You felt like you'd been plunged into ice water, whatever relief you'd been enjoying at the assurance of your parents' safety already long forgotten. Ideas of tossing his phone into the hallway bathroom sink or throwing it against the wall spun through your head, but what good would that do? Surely whoever contacted him had more than one way to get in touch. For all you knew, all six of his Knights received the exact same message.

You didn't have so much as a clue of a plan; all you knew was that if you didn't do **something** the news of Finn's murder would break sooner rather than later. You thought of his and Rose's save the date card sitting in your dresser in your bedroom and immediately felt sick to your stomach.

Distantly, you heard Vicrul ask you what was wrong, but his concern took second place to the sight of Kylo entering the hallway, first looking confused, and then understanding dawning on his features when he saw you clutching his phone like a lifeline.

He sighed, a deep, regretful sound mixed with a spark of irritation. Though his gaze never left yours, anchoring you on the spot, he spoke in a voice so deadly calm it sent chills down your spine.

"Vicrul, lock the door."   
  
  


*************************   
  
  


**(** a/n **)**

someone tell Finn to start running 0___O

thank you so much to everyone who sent messages/dms about my health; can't get much more southern than a tractor accident, right? it could have been way worse than what it was so I'm grateful, I'm on the mend!

merry christmas - to all who celebrate - loves, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. more fluff than we're used to, but I'm shamelessly using it as a plot device. don't worry, we're not going soft.

please comment/vote and let me know you thought?

thank you so much for reading and all your support! you guys have no idea how much it means to me. wishing you all a wonderful holiday <3


	10. Loyalty

**_TWs_** ; mentions of terrorism/terrorist activity, threats of violence and death, kidnapping, weapon use, guns, vehicle violence, death, sexual situations, dub-con, non-consensual use of sedatives, and needles. 

  
  
**********************   
  


The twist of the deadbolt behind you, an ordinarily mundane sound, sent a _chill_ down your spine. Ten minutes before you were nearly _comfortable_ with the three men remaining in your home after your parents departure. Now you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end at the way they watched your every move. It reminded you despite the pleasantries and fragile peace you'd built, these men were trained killers, and you were the only thing standing in the way of their next target.

With surprising grace for someone as monumentally _large_ as he was, Kylo was down the hall and at your side in seconds. One hand catching and locking on to your upper arm - you couldn't help but notice with a sort of terrified concentration that his fingers overlapped - the other snatching his phone from your grasp and tucking it into his back pocket. Looking between Trudgen and Vicrul there was no trace of the cordial man who'd just played host all evening. "She doesn't leave this house for any reason." he ordered quietly, waiting for their stiff nods of assent before he began pulling you back down the hall towards your bedroom with him, "Come."

As if you had a choice.

Ignoring your protests he drug you along with such laughable ease you realized your attempts to fight him in the past had been even more fruitless than you'd realized. "Kylo let go -" Your demand fell on deaf ears as he yanked you through the door of your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He released your arm, but only so he could lock his across your shoulders, holding you securely to his chest. Pulling open one of the top drawers of your dresser, you watched first in confusion and then dread when he pulled a small syringe filled with a clear liquid out from some unknown location. How the hell had you not known that was there?

Memories of the night you met him began to replay in the back your mind, reminding you of how weak and out of control you'd felt after. Sick to your stomach. Though you suspected that had more to do with realizing his 'truth serum' cocktail had sealed Poe's fate than the drugs themselves. Was that the plan now? Dope you up with the same drug again to see what you could tell him about Finn?

"You are _not_ using me to kill someone else!" While you knew your chances of fighting him off were slim to none - why would now be any different from the past - you couldn't just sit back knowing that a few slips of the tongue and Finn would be just as damned as Poe. Pulling your elbow forward you drove it back into his gut as hard as you could. You felt the impact through your entire arm and his repressed grunt of pain, but he managed to hang on to you, squeezing your shoulders so hard your felt your bones **ache** with the pressure.

When you tried to look back at him, you found him biting the cap off the needle of the syringe. He turned his head enough to spit it off to the side before he depressed the air from the barrel, "Calm down. It's just a sedative." He admonished quietly, as if it were supposed to make you feel _better_ that he was just trying to knock you out. He shifted his grip, clearly trying to get better access to your neck, "I should be back before you wake up. We can talk about this then."

"Wait!" It was a last ditch effort, one you fully expected to fail. You waited for the pinch of the needle, but surprisingly it didn't come. Trying to chase the panic from your thoughts you fought to keep a steady tone of voice. If he thought you were hysterical it would only strengthen his argument you couldn't be trusted. "You keep telling me that we have this connection and you want to make something work, right? Prove it. Tell me what's going on."

While Kylo still held the syringe in his hand, he seemed content to pause and consider your alternative. But when he spoke his voice still held the same eerie calm, "I need you to do something for me first. Can you do that, sweetheart?" That quiet murmur as he inclined his head towards you, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear, made you shudder. But this was the closest you'd ever come to having any sort of dialogue about his decisions; playing the game his way seemed a small price to pay. Giving a shaky nod he softly brushed your hair behind your shoulder, bringing the needle to your neck, a soft _scratch_ telling you how dangerously close you were to losing the battle of wills, "Convince me I can trust you. I assure you I won't shed any tears over jamming this in your neck. Vicrul can stay behind and make sure you don't get into any more trouble until I return. It's significantly less...inconvenient than trying to keep you from running off or warning your little friend that he's in danger."

Actually thus far the thought of contacting Finn hadn't even occurred to you, though it probably should have. The whole thing had happened so fast it felt like you hadn't had time to blink. And while it might not have seemed like such a bad idea now, that ship had sailed. You were going to have to find some other way to keep Poe's best friend from his grisly end.

"How?" you asked, referring to his demand to prove your trustworthiness. Certain he had an answer already even if he was asking you to fill in the blank.

Further loosening the arm across your collarbone, daring you to defy him, you felt him take a long breath. Prolonging the moment, or perhaps thinking about an answer. "Where's your phone?"

"In my back pocket," Your answer was immediate. Automatic. Unsure of where he was going with that considering his phone had been the cause of all the trouble and he'd already rid you of the burden.

Instead of answering he turned you towards your dresser, taking a step closer and meeting your gaze in the reflection of the mirror mounted behind it. Despite the tense nature of the moment you felt your breath come shorter at the intensity of his stare, trying to ignore the shiver that raced down your spine as he traced small circles against your shoulder with his thumb, "Take it out, turn it off, and put it on the dresser."

It was a test. He wanted to know how _readily_ you would give up your only remaining lifeline to the outside world. Your only chance at warning Finn. Given your history you supposed you could see why he doubted you...given the circumstances you still doubted **yourself**. Though Kylo was asking you to prove yourself you still had to wonder; could you trust _Kylo_ to do anything other than what he wanted?

Tentatively, you reached into your back pocket with a slightly less than stable hand and grabbed your phone. Pulling it in front of you, you watched him watch you turn it off in the mirror before setting it down on the dresser. Raising your arms you settled your hands on his forearm still spanning across your shoulders, not pulling but a physical reminder you had held up your end, "Can you put that down now?" You shifted your gaze pointedly to the needle still resting uncomfortably against your skin.

If he was surprised at your quick compliance he gave no indication. But at your question the right side of his mouth lifted a fraction, "If memory serves you didn't mind it so much last time. In fact I think I remember you batting those pretty eyelashes and begging me to stay with you."

It was perhaps the most shameful moment of your descent into the madness that was Kylo Ren. That night he'd broken in you were a **target**. Someone painfully expendable. He'd waterboarded you and held a knife to your throat and made it clear all he wanted from you was the information he needed to murder Poe.

And you begged him to stay with you.

Granted you could blame the drugs, claim to have been delirious, but the doctor at the hospital had explained that what he injected you with lowered your inhibitions. Made you susceptible to revealing the truth, not inventing lies. It made you wonder if there had ever been even a moment when you weren't hopelessly _addicted_ to your lethal stalker.

"Would begging make you reconsider what you're about to do?" You countered frankly, though you knew the answer before you even asked. Kylo's vendetta against the organization and everyone they controlled who caused the bombing and subsequent loss of his loved one - a someone you still knew nothing about - motivated nearly all of his decisions. You weren't going to change that with pretty words. "That message on your phone called Finn Poe's accomplice. You've never even seen him outside of a picture, right? He would never intentionally hurt anyone, believe me. If he was involved in anything he probably didn't have a choice or he was trying to help keep Poe out of danger."

There was a flash of something in his gaze you couldn't quite pinpoint, but you were certain it was nothing that indicated you pleading Finn's character was winning you any points. "Did you learn nothing from your dearly departed husband?" Kylo finally asked silkily, his thumb still tracing circles against you shoulder as he spoke, "Just because someone is capable of decency doesn't make them innocent."

While you couldn't argue with his point where Poe was concerned, he had at least given you enough information to know it wasn't as simple as good versus evil, "You told me this organization lures people in and then doesn't give them a choice, right? That they threaten the people they've gotten to and their loved ones to get what they want? You lost someone you care about, are you really telling me that if the roles were reversed and you were faced with complying or saving that person, you wouldn't have made the same choice all these people you're hunting down and slaughtering did?"

Kylo seemed to consider your argument for a few extended moments before giving a cold shrug, "Maybe not. The difference is I don't climb into bed with the devil before knowing the **price**." Finally pulling the syringe away from your neck he set it down on the dresser next to your phone, though he made no move to release you from his grip, "And no rationalization in the world will give my son his life back."

Whatever argument might have been forming in your mind evaporated, leaving you feeling both lightheaded and as out of breath as if someone had punched you in the gut. His quiet confession echoed in your mind, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to click together. The nightmare you'd woken him from that night. The fury that always seemed so dangerously close to the surface. The unrelenting, ruthless pursuit of anyone even remotely connected to the attack in Amsterdam.

He wasn't just seeking vengeance for a loved one; he was mourning the loss of a **child**. A wave of nausea washed over you when you realized this was what cost Poe his life.

"Breathe, angel. Before you pass out." Kylo reminded you quietly, still watching you in the mirror, though his expression shifted enough to reveal his concern until you forced your unresponsive lungs to drag in a shaky breath. You didn't even realize until he spoke that you'd stopped breathing altogether.

With his grip finally loose enough you turned to face him. He let his arm fall back to his side, looking weary, "Why didn't you tell me?" Not that it would have changed that much, but at least you would have understood his hatred of your now deceased husband. And his absolute determination to punish everyone on the list of names he was systematically wiping off the face of the earth.

"Because you would have taken more responsibility than Dameron ever would have, and this isn't your guilt to bear." His explanation was so decisive you had to wonder how much time he'd spent considering the decision to tell you or not.

But you didn't entirely agree with him. In fact now that you knew as close to the full story as you were going to get, Poe's descent into destruction made much more sense, "I know he didn't come forward and take responsibility but I promise you the guilt was eating him alive. Before the accident he was a shell of who he used to be. Hateful and withdrawn, drinking himself into an early grave." Though you didn't say it out loud, he also let it cost him his marriage.

But, seeing right through you as he usually did, Kylo raised a hand to cup your cheek tenderly, tilting your head up to him, "He took his guilt out on his wife like the coward he was and left you to deal with the fallout of his mistakes. If he wasn't already in the ground I'd do considerably worse than put a bullet through his skull."

Though you thought it was meant to reassure you, his sentiments instead sent a chill down your spine. Poe wasn't here to pay again...but Finn was.

Catching his hand against your cheek you held it in both of yours, hoping the pleading in your gaze would penetrate this time, "I can't ask you not to avenge your son. But can you at least investigate first and find out what happened?" You didn't want to think Poe knowingly caused death and destruction any more than you'd wanted to for Poe, but for all anyone knew Finn might not have known anything other than Poe asking him a simple favor.

And this seemed like your only chance of sparing his life, because the unwillingness in Kylo's expression told you everything you needed to know.

"You make the mistake of thinking I **care** how small his role was," Kylo mused, raising a brow before leading you away from the dresser and over to one of the armchairs in the corner. You'd always thought of those chairs as useless bedroom furniture but they'd been a housewarming present from one of Poe's uncles when you moved in. After he died it felt tasteless to get rid of them.

Then again, maybe climbing on Kylo's lap once he sat down and tugged you closer was equally as insensitive.

But you felt him exhale slightly as he wrapped an arm around you, some of the tenseness fading from his muscles as you leaned your head against his shoulder. His free hand traced lightly along your calf, "If I do this, it's for you. I make no promises that the information I turn up will change my mind about pursuing him."

You could have wept in relief. It was far from assurance, but it was at least a chance. Time that you didn't have only a few minutes before.

You nodded, about to thank him for the compromise but his lips against the top of your head stopped you, "You're not going to do anything to warn him or tip him off. And if I suspect you're hiding anything about him or his whereabouts you already know I can easily take whatever information I want from you. Is that understood?"

You, in fact, didn't need the reminder but you hadn't expected anything any different. At the end of the day, supposed connection or not, he was still Kylo. "You know you could try trusting me," you hedged instead, toying with a fold of his shirt.

Displeased with your sidestepping his question a finger appeared below your chin, tilting your head back. His hand drifted down to your neck, wrapping delicately around your throat, "Trust," he murmured quietly, lips hovering just above yours, smirking when you automatically moved to close the distance on your own accord, "is _earned_ , my sweet little pet."

Finally taking pity on you he kissed you, his lips soft and warm as his hand around your throat tightened. You twined your arms around his neck, drawing him closer as his hand drifted from your leg to your hip, deepening the kiss at your throaty moan against his mouth. It wasn't lost on you that you'd begun to crave more than just his touch; you wanted his rough edges. The idea of his ruthless possession wasn't just something that made your palms sweat and heart beat a little faster; you anticipated it. Even now when he was actively threatening another life you knew you wouldn't hesitate to give in. And it had nothing to do with the fact you suspected sex would have made a much better distraction than any negotiation. 

Only when you were beginning to get lightheaded with the lack of air did he pull back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his hand still secured around your throat. "You still won't convince me to spare him like this, but you're welcome to try." he teased darkly, thoughts obviously having gone in a similar direction. 

But much as you might have wanted to test that theory, there was something more pressing on your mind. And this may well have been your only opportunity to explore it, given 9 times out of 10 when he called you 'pet' things usually took a turn for the _unproductive_. You had a feeling anyway this was his attempt to distract you now that the matter of Finn was temporarily settled. 

"Kylo," You knew you were potentially roaming into dangerous territory, but you couldn't just overlook the information he'd finally shared with you. So many of his actions that you'd previously seen little purpose behind made sense now that you understood his loss better. And the two of you were never going anywhere if you kept walking on eggshells, "I'm not going to push if you're not ready, but I want you to tell me about him. Your son." 

Up until now you hadn't even considered the possibility of his lost loved one being a child. Maybe it was too horrible to even entertain the thought, or you were too blinded with irrational jealousy at the thought of him being with someone else, but now that you knew it felt wrong to let the moment pass. He'd allowed you to work through a **tremendous** amount of shock and grief, despite the fact that it was so interwoven with his own. He'd lost his son because of your husband. Returning the favor felt like the least you could do. 

His eyes narrowed slightly in thought as he slowly sat up, pulling you into a more comfortable position with him. His hand slowly slid from your neck, instead moving to toy with a strand of your hair, "I shouldn't have told you. I don't want you accepting Dameron's guilt." 

While it was true that there would always be a sense of guilt in the back of your mind for Poe's actions, for the lives lost that you didn't even known about until months later, you didn't hold yourself accountable for what Poe had done. You'd blamed yourself plenty for his hatefulness, his addiction, the way his life spiraled. Knowing what you knew now, you could see what a wasted effort it had been. You suspected your only role in his rage was simply _existing_ when he was drowning in guilt. 

"You shouldn't have to feel like you can't talk about your son to spare my feelings." You countered, shifting your arm still around his neck to so you could trace your fingers through his soft, raven black hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes closed briefly at the sensation of your nails against his skin. "I can't say I've ever pictured you changing a diaper." you prompted, smiling slightly at the idea of Kylo trying to figure out domesticity. 

The ghost of a half-smile that graced his lips was painful to watch, the grief still clearly evident when he opened his eyes again, "I learned. His mother insisted. The two of us...we were a mistake, but Alexander was perhaps the only good thing I've ever done in life. He was unendingly curious, not unlike yourself," he shot you a dry look as he continued to twist and untwist the same lock of hair around his long finger, "Smart. Forgiving. With my profession I couldn't be with him all the time but he never resented me for it. Rey, his mother, gave him a good life." 

Vague images of a dark haired little boy played through your mind, your heart aching at the longing in Kylo's voice when he spoke of his son. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. It made you wonder at how much he'd changed since the bombing. "She must have been devastated too. Rey." 

"She died." Kylo responded plainly. Seeing the look on your face he shook his head, knowing the direction your mind went in, "Not in the bombing. She passed a few months before. A freak accident on the way home from work. Zander stayed with her sister for a while but he wasn't coping well. I had taken time off, I was due to meet them in Amsterdam. I was at the airport when it happened. An hour sooner getting off that flight and he might still be alive. He might have seen his sixth birthday." The arm around you momentarily tightened, nostalgia quickly replaced by the rage you now understood.   
  
And you did understand. It tore you apart to think of a child so young being deprived of life. Of the pain he was in grieving his mother. Of the agony Kylo must have experienced when he realized that a cruel twist of fate stole everything from his child. There was no amount of justice in the world that could atone for something so _heinous_. 

But even so, you still saw the responsible party as the terrorist group pulling all the strings. Without their influence, the attack never would have happened. All the people they forced into doing their dirty work might share the blame, but killing them wouldn't prevent something like that from happening again. You couldn't voice that aloud - not after everything Kylo had just told you - but you wondered if you would have any success convincing him of that some day. 

And if not that, than that hunting down a list of names across the globe wasn't going to quell his grief. The pain would still be there ready to consume him when he ran out of targets.

"Thank you for sharing Alexander with me." You said instead, knowing there was little comfort you could offer otherwise. 'I'm sorry' in the face of that loss was painfully inadequate. 

"You would have liked him," Despite your whine of complaint he abruptly helped you to your feet before standing up, giving you a sardonic grin that didn't reach his eyes, "He was much nicer than his father." 

You could see the walls slide back in place after that. Even after you'd both changed and climbed into bed and he wrapped his arms around you from behind you could tell his resolve hadn't softened in the slightest.  
  


*********************   
  
  


The following morning had been both reassuring and unnerving.

A part of you feared you would wake up to find Kylo gone, having changed his mind about digging into Finn's role in the bombing and going through with whatever undoubtedly colorful end he already had planned. But when your eyes fluttered open a few minutes before your alarm sounded you realized you were still warmly wrapped in his arms, fitting against the contours of his chest as if you were _made_ to be there.

When he felt you stir his arms tightened, but not to keep you captive. You felt his smirk against your bare shoulder as he tried to convince you to skip breakfast with one of your authors in favor of staying in bed all day. While it was a tempting offer, thanks to Kylo's little gas leak stunt at your office the day before your boss was insistent that everyone meet with their authors in person if they had upcoming deadlines to make sure they were staying on track, and come by the office to pick up laptops - you still weren't entirely sure how they'd been recovered from the building - so you could work remotely until the building was deemed safe to reenter.

After managing to disentangle yourself - reluctantly - from Kylo you'd showered, done your hair and makeup, and changed into a business casual knee-length dress, sweater, and ankle boots. When you emerged from the bathroom you found Kylo sitting in the same armchair as the night before with his laptop perched on his lap while he typed, occasionally glancing up to check something on the screen. In honor of the trust you were trying to extend to him you didn't ask what had him so distracted; you could only hope whatever it was was of the non-lethal variety where Finn was concerned.

When you'd gone to recover your phone from the dresser you couldn't find it. In its place sat a slim silver smart phone. Not yours, or Kylo's. Before you could ask, he called out distractedly, "Your contacts are already loaded. With the exception of a few, of course." Turning towards him felt your brows pull together. Compared to some of the things he'd done since you met him taking your phone was hardly outlandish, but it was once again another occasion when you wondered when he had the time to do some of this stuff.

Like hiding syringes in your bedroom furniture and setting up a new phone. 

"Is your definition of 'earning' trust you micro-managing me? What next? A tracker, or do you just prefer a good old fashioned leash?" You'd asked dryly, rolling your eyes but nonetheless taking the phone and tucking in into your purse. It was better than nothing, and currently it was quite possibly your only option.

But to your irritation he'd merely given you an indulgent half smile that didn't match the burning intensity of his stare when he looked up from his laptop, eyes shifting temporarily to your bed before finding you again, "Baiting me is a _very_ unwise decision. I would much rather keep you in bed with a chain around that lovely neck than allow this, but I'm _trusting_ you to keep your word, go to work, and come back to me. If you've decided you're not capable of following through I will gladly rearrange your plans."

While you never would have admitted the alluring nature of the picture he painted, you could at least concede he was trying to meet you halfway. Or maybe 30%. You would take what you could get. More to prevent yourself from giving in and pushing his buttons, you departed soon after that with the promise you would be home some time that afternoon and you would leave the temporary cell phone on. Though you doubted he needed it; if anything, Kylo had proven to be a far above average **stalker**.

It wasn't easy to shift your focus to work - or anything of a more mundane nature, really - as you drove to the cafe downtown where you'd arranged to meet Lucas, one of your up and comers whose book was due to be released in the next few months. Given that he was a first time author the release wouldn't be huge and the tour a short one, but he was dedicated and you wanted to see him go far. And with his habit of over-thinking and overactive self criticism he had definitely come to mind first when you prioritized meetings for the rest of the week.

If only figuring out your other problems could be so simple.

You arrived at the cafe a little early so you took the opportunity to order a mug of tea and go claim one of the nice corner tables so you could have some privacy while you worked.

As you waited for Lucas to arrive your thoughts again drifted back to Kylo. Everything he'd shared with you the night before about his son. Finn. Rose. There was so much at stake, but you couldn't see any easy solution. You'd meant what you told Kylo, you didn't have the right to tell him that he couldn't avenge his child. Though you wished he would let the justice system do its job, you had no idea what it was like to be in his position. But you imagined if you'd lost a son so young in such a tragic way you wouldn't be content to wait on the sidelines and hope it all worked out, either.

But even if you did understand Kylo's position better now, you also began to question his pursuit of the people who'd been manipulated by the terrorist organization who was truly the responsible party. Yes maybe the average citizens - like Poe and possibly Finn - had made some unwise decisions or accepted bribes when they should have been more cautious, but if people were being made to choose between their or a loved ones life and tasks they didn't even understand, was it fair to hold them so ruthlessly accountable?

You were still pondering that question when you heard a voice call your name.

Looking up from your cooling mug instead of finding Lucas you found another man you hadn't seen in months and honestly never expected to see again; Agent West.

You hadn't heard from him - or anyone else with the FBI - since the funeral except for a few vague emails letting you know the investigation was ongoing. You'd fully expected to receive a clipped message one day informing you that the case was cold and would more than likely remain unsolved. Though you knew Kylo still had to be on their radar, at this point Poe's name was one of many on an ever going list. Staying in contact with you was hardly a priority.

Which begged the question, what was Agent West doing here?

You weren't willing to believe for even a second that this was a coincidence. Not with his grim expression and shifting gaze. He looked like he'd aged _years_ since you'd last seen him. His dark side burns peppered with grey. Shadows under his eyes from an obvious lack of sleep. New lines etched into his skin. You wondered how many of those Kylo had been responsible for. Were his nights tireless out hunting for the man you were sharing a bed with?

"Agent West," You managed to collect yourself enough to respond, hoping he would take your fumbling as surprise rather than guilt. "What are you doing here?" If he needed to speak with you, why not send another email? Call? At the very least not show up out of the blue like this.

He gestured to the chair across from you, sitting before you'd given consent. Clearly being told now wasn't an opportune time wasn't on his agenda, "I'm sorry to just show up like this. I wanted to give you this news in person and when I stopped by your office they told me about the gas leak. Fortunately your boss was there, told me you were meeting an author here this morning so I took a chance and came over." You watched as once again his eyes subtly swept around you, as if he expected a threat to materialize from thin air. Seeing you watching him, he winced slightly, "Sorry, I know this must be unexpected."

"To say the least," you agreed slowly, still not entirely able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Well, aside from the fact that you'd been blatantly withholding information from the FBI. "I usually don't hear from you outside of email, what was so dire you needed to see me in person? Not that I don't appreciate the effort but I do have a meeting with one of my authors any minute now." You prayed Lucas was trekking across the parking lot. Being alone with Agent West while once wasn't of any consequence now felt like a sizable risk. Not just because of the information you hadn't shared, but because of Kylo. If he or any of his Knights were watching you, wouldn't an unplanned meeting with a federal agent look suspicious? If they thought you'd gone back on your word Finn or any other number of people could pay the price. 

Now it was _you_ who couldn't help but survey the space around you for watching eyes. 

"Actually, I asked your boss to cancel that meeting. He said he'd reschedule it for you," West admitted apologetically, following your gaze when you glanced around him, hopefully assuming you'd been looking for Lucas. After a moment he sighed, sounding oddly regretful, "I'm afraid I owe you an apology. After you were attacked we really didn't have any reason to believe your assailant would come back. It seemed self explanatory that he'd gotten what he came for and had no reason to return, and there was no evidence to suggest otherwise until recently." 

You felt your blood turn to ice. Had they known all along that Kylo had come back into your life? Granted he'd made no effort to shield himself from you, you knew he was taking measures to otherwise remain off the radar. Keeping his public visibility low even though he was still convinced the feds didn't even have his name. Much less any kind of image. 

Feeling your heart rate begin to increase you felt your eyebrows pull together, "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying?" Actually you were just hoping to buy yourself a few extra moments of time to conduct yourself. Did this mean the feds were closer to Kylo than either of you realized? The thought spurred immediate panic within you, but it had nothing to do with the danger to the people Kylo had threatened, or even your own role in keeping his secret. 

The thought of him being in danger, or potentially losing him either to prison or a stray bullet made you psychically sick to your stomach. 

West continued to observe you, but he seemed to think your reaction was selfishly motivated, "I assure you, we'll do everything in our power to protect you. And we don't have definite confirmation, but there was a...well, quite frankly, a massacre in Montana recently we believe he and his associates were responsible for. There weren't any witnesses, of course, and most of the security tech was either completely destroyed or disabled at the time of the attack but our guys were able to recover some old audio from a camera inside the property and the name 'Ren' more than once. Does that mean anything to you?"   
  
If only he'd asked you that question before Vicrul slipped up and told you Kylo's last name, then maybe you could have answered honestly. As it was you knew this was the defining moment; risk Kylo carrying through with his threats if you divulged anything to the FBI and almost undoubtedly lose him, or tell the truth, potentially buying your and your loved ones freedom and safety, and live without Kylo. 

Only a _small_ part of you wished the decision had been more difficult. 

"No. Can't say it does." 

The lie was painfully **easy**. 

West accepted it without delay, nodding and looking frustrated as if he'd heard exactly what he expected. "I know you told us before he never told you his name, but I thought maybe it would jog something if he'd said something while you were under." Sighing, he ran his hand through his chocolate brown hair, a habit that must have been brought on by stress. The indents of his fingers remained visible even after he lowered his hand. "We don't have definitive proof but some tech we're tracking from Montana popped up in this area. It could be a coincidence, but it seems unlikely. And I don't mean to scare you, but to the best of our knowledge you're the **only** connection to this city your attacker has. Have you felt at any time like you're being watched?" 

You knew you were being watched. Apparently it was one of Kylo's favorite pass times. You were tempted now to pull out your phone and tell him about this meeting so he didn't assume you were turning him in because you knew he so commonly had eyes on your whereabouts. But even with that internal struggle there wasn't so much as a break in your voice when you responded, "I felt that way right after the attack, but I know it was just paranoia. I'm trying to move on with my life Agent West, I try not to dredge up the past." You grabbed your mug from the table and took a sip of your warm tea, feeling only a small modicum of guilt for the deception. 

Months before when you'd been struggling to find a sense of safety after the attack the FBI didn't seem to think you were a priority. Pettily, it gave you a little bit of satisfaction to know that not only had you been _right_ , but they were reaping what they sewed. 

The look of remorse in his eyes took a lot of the shine off, "That's understandable. I hope you know, I've done everything I can to get you and your husband justice. I promise you, we're not giving up." You sipped your tea a few seconds longer than necessary to spare you having to respond, instead returning his nod and breathing a sigh of relief when he climbed to his feet and pushed the chair back under the table, "We'll be in touch. In the meantime if you think of anything or feel like anything's wrong, call me." 

With another nod he turned on his heel and quickly strode out of the cafe. You watched him through the wall to ceiling windows as he climbed into a nondescript white sedan and pulled out of the lot. Waiting until he had completely faded from view before allowing yourself to exhale. 

You'd just committed a crime. And not only had you done it well, you knew with certainty if given the choice to replay that moment you wouldn't have done anything any differently. 

******************

With your meeting canceled you saw no reason to linger at the cafe. You felt edgy and off balance after meeting with Agent West and you still had to go and pick up your laptop before heading home. It seemed wise to do it while you could still pretend to be semi-unaffected by what had just taken place. 

After gathering your things you walked out to the parking lot, heading in the direction of where you'd parked your car. The problem was, it wasn't there anymore. In its place sat a black SUV; the model you knew Kylo's Knights seemed to favor. And even if you hadn't known that, Vicrul leaning against the door was a bit of a giveaway. 

You froze several feet away, not liking the somber expression on his face. It was odd for him to look so serious. "What are you doing here? And where's my car?" It had only been about fifteen minutes since Agent West had departed, you wondered if he'd been waiting that long. Had he seen you meeting with him? Was that why he was here? Though you'd assumed if they thought you were going back on your word Kylo would be the one waiting for you. 

"Something came up. Kylo's handling it, he sent me to come get you. We need to go." Approaching you he slid your bags from your shoulder and walked back to the car, tossing them in the backseat before opening the passenger's side door for you pointedly, "Now. Please." He added, giving you a weak half-smile that unsettled you far more than any threat would have. 

Something was wrong. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat you climbed in and shut the door, only having enough time to buckle your seatbelt before he was climbing in the driver's seat next to you. Looking tense, he started the engine and backed out of the spot, buckling his own seatbelt in tandem with pulling out into traffic. 

"Is Kylo okay?" It was the first and only thing that came to mind, worries over Agent West taking a backseat to the potential that Kylo was in danger. You knew it was part of his world and there was no way to keep him from it, but just as when he'd gone to Montana that thought offered you little comfort. Especially now that you knew the FBI was sniffing around again. 

Gradually increasing speed as you headed down the highway Vicrul gave a short nod, "He can handle it." Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but you'd already learned that when it came to Vicrul he wasn't one to indulge your worries for Kylo's safety. Or any of the Knights, really. You'd asked him if he worried about his friends since he couldn't be on the job with them and he'd said simply if he didn't they could handle it without him he wouldn't be staying with you. 

"We'll wait for him at your place. He shouldn't be too far behind-" 

You startled at a sudden **bang** followed by a sharp crack, an unexpected yelp bubbling up in your throat as you looked around for the source of the noise. Beside you Vicrul looked angry, but otherwise unbothered, his only reaction to curse quietly under his breath and step on the accelerator. Another sweep around the car and you finally found the source of the noise; a small dent in what you now realized was bulletproof glass across the back window of the SUV, and the nearly identical black car speeding along behind you. "Any chance Kylo's taught you how to use a bazooka yet?" 

You weren't sure what alarmed you more; the implication that there was a fucking **bazooka** in the car, or his use of the word ' _yet_ '. As if it was a standard phase of any relationship. Then again, maybe it was with Kylo. 

"He must be saving that for an anniversary," You quipped tersely, trying to turn in your seat to watch the car pursuing you. Vicrul was weaving back and forth, cutting them off with the SUV and other surrounding traffic so they couldn't pull alongside you, but in the process he'd nearly caused half a dozen pedestrian wrecks. Traffic wasn't heavy, but you wondered how long he could keep up the radio pattern, "Who are they?" 

"The assholes trying to kill us." Vicrul answered shortly, swerving again and sending a Buick colliding into the guardrail, forcing the black car behind you to temporarily slow down before trying to pursue the SUV again. Watching them for a moment in the rearview he took a hand off the wheel to point to the glove compartment, "Hand me the .44 in there." 

Feeling a spike of adrenaline as you watched the chaos erupt behind you, you followed his instructions and opened the latch, only to find a small array of weapons. You felt your eyes widen, wondering if Kylo and all his Knights always traveled so heavily armed. Thankfully there was only one gun so you didn't have to guess at the right one. Picking it up gingerly you handed it over, watching as he first rolled down the window and then fired a few shots behind the SUV. The noise echoed in the cabin, making your ears ring. The car following you seemed mostly unaffected but a truck veered off the road on to the shoulder, nearly colliding with another sedan in their attempts to stay away from the gunfire. "Jesus Vicrul, you're going to kill someone!" You couldn't help but protest. You might not shed any tears for the unknown people trying to kill you, but the unfortunate people who happened to be on the highway with you didn't deserve to be casualties. 

But Vicrul fired a few more shots anyway before pulling his arm back in the car and rolling the window up as the black sedan behind you sideswiped a grey Kia that couldn't get out of their path quickly enough. "My job is to keep _you_ alive. Not them." 

His tone left no room for argument, stunning you into temporary silence. Though you didn't know him well, you knew him the best of all the Knights and after spending a few days together you'd grown accustomed to his easy going outlook, quick smiles, and dirty sense of humor. There wasn't a trace of that now. Just like the night before this was business. 

As you continued down the road at top speed, still dodging traffic, your pursuers began gaining again. This time trying to pull up on your side of the car, undoubtedly trying to avoid any more bullets from Vicrul. 

"There's something in the glovebox I want you to grab. It's black, looks like a ball, pretty heavy." Vicrul instructed as his gaze shifted to different mirrors, trying to keep the sedan from getting closer but now they were using the shoulder to avoid traffic and were gaining quickly. Up ahead you could see traffic thinning out. It would give them the perfect opportunity to get closer. 

Feeling a bead of sweat form on your forehead you shifted the contents of the glove compartment around until you found the object he was referring to. It was about the size of a baseball and heavy as he'd said. Solid black. When you picked it up you thought you could feel something soothing around inside it. "Now what?" 

You both watched the sedan speed towards you, cutting off another car and swerving back into the right lane. They were close now, only yards away, and there wasn't any other traffic to create a diversion with. Vicrul rolled down your window from his side, gaze firmly fixed between the road ahead and the black sedan nearly at your side, "When I tell you to throw that aim for the car. The higher up the better and push your seat back as quickly as possible." 

Considering your complete lack of experience in anything so dangerous - with the exception of Kylo, of course - it amazed you how calm you felt. The adrenaline rush helped, but your subconscious seemed to have already decided this was the definition of ' _us or them_ ' and you weren't planning on it being you and Vicrul. 

With a stiff nod you clutched the solid sphere in your palm tightly, twisting in your seat so you could get some force behind the throw. You reached down with your free hand and found the level to pull your seat back. You kept your fingers locked around it, preparing to follow Vicrul's order the moment he spoke. You felt your heart thundering in your chest as the black sedan inched forward, the window rolling down and a man wearing a black mask aiming a gun at your window. 

"Now!" Vicrul snarled as the sedan finally caught up. Unhesitatingly you launched the ball out the window, grateful for how close they'd gotten because it made missing the car nearly impossible. The ball shattered like glass against the driver's side door, liquid splashing across the driver and making him drop his gun out the window at the unexpected impact. Hearing him cough you jerked the lever to push your seat back, turning your head just in time to see Vicrul jerk the wheel to the left, putting a solid several feet of distance between the two cars before he pointed his gun out your window and fired off a single shot. 

In disbelief, you watched as the black sedan erupted in flames, engulfing the entire left side of the car before an earsplitting explosion reduced the car to an inferno, flipping off on to the side of the road. 

" _Fuck_ ," He breathed, watching the disaster in the rearview as he stepped on the gas again. Only instead of mirroring your shock, he looked **enthralled**. He rolled your window back up as you struggled with numb fingers to pull your seat back up, "Gas grenade. Ap'lek made them." A wide, victorious grin spread across his lips, his tense shoulders relaxing. He reminded you of a ten year old who'd just demolished someone playing Mario Kart. When you didn't immediately echo his sentiments he reached over and tossed the gun back in the glove compartment before patting your knee, "You did good, Angel." 

Good wasn't exactly the word that first sprung to your mind. Though self preservation had kicked in and you'd been prepared to do what you had to in order to survive...you had just helped kill at least one person. It felt wrong to be so overjoyed about turning someone's car into a flaming death trap. 

Though you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel good to do something. To fight back. So good you didn't even bust Vicrul for calling you by a pet name again. 

******************

The rest of the ride to your house, somehow, passed uneventfully. Vicrul slowed to a normal speed and resumed obeying traffic laws. A series of cops, firetrucks, and ambulances sped past on the opposite side of the road, but amazingly enough red and blue lights never appeared behind you. In the chaos and thanks to the perfectly common exterior of the SUV you imagined there weren't enough identifying features observed during the chase to point in your direction. 

People didn't tend to try and record license plate numbers while bullets were whizzing past their cars. 

Vicrul babbled on about Ap'lek's other 'inventions' he wanted to test out now that you'd had such swimming success with the grenades. For the most part you tuned him out. While you were happy to be alive, the adrenaline was wearing off as quickly as it had come on, leaving you feeling cold and on edge. You - nor Vicrul, at least if he did he wouldn't tell you - had any idea who'd just made an attempt on your lives. You had no idea why. After your meeting with Agent West, and Kylo's threat against Finn's life it was beginning to feel like your life was falling into a tailspin you'd never get out of. 

When Vicrul finally pulled into your driveway he had you open the garage door so he could park inside. Somehow your car was in its usual spot. You assumed one of the other Knights had been dispatched to remove it from the cafe earlier and bring it home. 

"Hey," Vicrul called to you as you climbed out of the car. You glanced back, your hand on the door, wondering why he'd yet to get out himself, "You really did handle that well. Everything will be okay. Okay?" 

You studied him for a moment. Suddenly he seemed unsure. Nervous maybe. Granted he had every right to be shaky after what had just happened, but once again it felt unlike him. You found yourself wondering if all the chattering he'd done on the way home hadn't been a casual dismissal of the near-death experience you'd just shared, but **babbling** to sooth his own nerves. The question was, what did he have to be nervous about? 

"Okay..." You repeated slowly, unsure of whether or not you believed that, but too tired to care. Despite the fact that it had only been a few hours since you'd left earlier in the morning to meet Lucas it felt like it had been days. And you still didn't even have your laptop for work. Sighing, you shut the door and headed for the garage door, making a mental note to grab it later once things calmed down and you knew Kylo was safe. 

Walking up the few steps to the door you glanced over your shoulder before crossing the threshold, seeing Vicrul finally getting out of the car but taking his time about it. Assuming he wanted a minute to himself you continued on into the house. 

Someone had helpfully turned off all the lights after you'd left that morning, but the afternoon sun shown brightly through the windows. Your calm, quiet house felt almost eerie with the blast of the explosion still echoing in your ears, but it was at least a small comfort to enjoy a moment of safety. At least before you remembered that you'd left your cell phone in the car and couldn't hope to get any kind of update from Kylo without it. 

You turned to head back to the garage...and that was when you noticed one of your suitcases sitting near the door. You'd somehow managed to miss it when you came in, but you recognized it immediately as yours. An item that should have been tucked in the back of a closet. You might have been overwhelmed that morning but you weren't so absent that you would have forgotten taking it out and leaving it in such a strange spot. 

"Angel?" 

The sound of Kylo's voice behind you sent a tidal wave of relief crashing into you, your eyes closing briefly, reconsidering Vicrul's assurances that everything would be okay. You turned to find him walking towards you and you met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and breathing in his familiar scent. You resisted the urge to check him for any injuries, but his tight grip around you wouldn't have allowed you the freedom. 

"I'm really glad to see you." you mumbled against his chest, too overcome with gratitude that he was safe to care that you should have at least weary of him given your current circumstances. But the more selfish side of you that was increasingly unable to deny your feelings for him didn't give a damn that you were breaking cover and giving in.

His breath tickled the top of your head as he held you close, seemingly just as relieved to find you alive and well. "Me too," he soothed, a hand gently caressing your back. Vicrul hadn't made any calls on your way back to the house, but that didn't mean he didn't know about your little afternoon car chase. By now you were certain the incident was all over the news. 

After a few more long moments you pulled back enough to look up and meet his troubled gaze, the sound of the garage door opening behind you reminding you that you had a million questions you were desperate for answers to. 

But before you could ask you saw the flash of Kylo's hand move before you felt the sharp _prick_ of a needle in your neck. You watched in confusion as he withdrew a syringe you hadn't even seen him holding as lethargy rushed through your veins. "Why?" You managed to rasp out before collapsing into his chest, your tired limbs no longer able to hold you upright. Kylo caught you effortlessly, bending to hook an arm under your knees before lifting you up in his arms. 

"I don't have a choice," his voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel, distance and distorted. Your heavy eyelids quickly lost the battle in staying open as your head lulled weakly against his chest. You felt his lips against your forehead, "Rest, baby." 

You felt him begin moving towards the door, his calling for Vicrul to grab your bag the last thing you heard before the darkness pulled you under. 

  
  
********************   
  


**(** a/n **)**

.....um. I plead the fifth. 0__o

I don't, actually. I promise everything will be explained in time. for now just know that things are heating up.

y'all kept sayin' you wanted to get _snatched_ by kylo....

please please please comment/vote and let me know what you thought of the chapter? 

until next time <3


	11. A Beautiful Cage

**_ TWs;  _ ** _kidnapping, sexual situations, non-consensual use of narcotics, dub-con, mentions of terrorism and terrorist activity, violence, death._   
  
  


**_Kylo (Several Hours Before)_ **

"They're using the feds as their flying monkeys now." Kylo muttered as he scrolled through the information their team of hackers had just emailed him, detailing what they were able to ascertain after days of research and dodging the traps being set for them in cyber space. They'd planned for this months ago, knowing that the rodents who comprised Spearhead - the group of terrorists posing as an investment conglomerate - would eventually get wise to his plans and do something to stop him. Kylo wasn't one of their lackeys. There wasn't a single thing on the planet they could bribe him with to pull him into their orbit; the only thing he wanted from them were each and every one of their heads on a _pike_.

Much like the feds, they'd had trouble figuring out who he and the Knights even were. It was the reason why their business was so successful; in most systems and countries they simply didn't exist. All of them had long ago shed their original identities; who they once were had either been recorded as dead, MIA, or simply too far off the grid to be found. It took a considerable amount of time, money, and effort to arrange and maintain the secrecy, but the advantages to being an unknown in their world were limitless.

And Spearhead knew it.

When they first comprised the list of everyone responsible for the Amsterdam bombing and began eliminating the most accessible names Kylo doubted they even noticed. The lower level people they pulled in for the grunt work couldn't have been high on anyone's priority list. But the higher up the list they went the more the risk that Spearhead would begin to realize the trend. From what they could tell, the Montana job had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

They hadn't left behind any incriminating evidence, they knew better than that. But crimes of such a grisly nature seldom took place in the remote hills of the small town Ranson had lived in. It sent shockwaves first across the state and then further across the country, people asking how such a heinous thing could have happened to an 'innocent man' and his staff. Their best guess at this point was that Spearhead got word of the story thanks to their connections to Ranson's resources and they began to follow the breadcrumbs from there until they realized that nearly 70% of the individuals who could be linked to the attack were dead - all in spectacularly unusual ways - and most that remained were those in hiding that Spearhead had been keeping protected since before the bombing even took place.

Thanks to their connections and resources they'd apparently been able to dig up some old audio from the security equipment inside the manor when the police were cleaning up the bodies and scratching their heads. Somehow Ranson had been able to figure out a few things; most notably Kylo's last name. He'd nearly put his fist through the wall when he played the recording the hackers sent him.

For a spineless worm, Ranson had been _resourceful_. He could allow him that much.

Though the name still meant little to the authorities and the feds alike, it had been far more helpful to Spearhead. Somehow they'd managed to do just enough tracking and pull just enough obscure footage from traffic cameras that they were able to narrow down their location within 50 miles.

Had it just been Kylo and the Knights he wouldn't have given it much of a second thought. After all, Spearhead weren't the first to come after them. It was an occupational hazard when you made a career of taking life; there would always be someone looking for vengeance. Under normal circumstances they would plan, prepare, and fight their way through it before disappearing off the map again.

But that was before _her_.

She may have become accustomed to some of the odds and ends of his world, but she was far from used to dodging bullets and having to think in terms of life and death for every single design down to the timing of a trip to the grocery store. Aside from his presence her world was _painfully_ normal. 9 to 5 job, friends, family, nice house, weekend shopping trips and mountain retreats for holidays. That predictable routine was an open invitation for the people who would be coming for them. And while it was his fault that she was now in the line of fire, there was no going back now.

It was only because he'd gotten all this information from the hackers **after** she'd left to meet her author that he allowed her out of the house. Had he known beforehand she wouldn't have gone more than a few feet from his side, his promises from the night before be damned. Finn was the least of his concerns now; timing may well have bought the bastard a temporary free pass.

Ordinarily he would have gone to pick her up from the cafe himself, but in addition to everything else they'd learned they'd also been able to get a lead on a local hacker who'd been working with Spearhead. Wanting to interrogate him, Kylo had sent Vicrul to pick up his girl, knowing she was the most comfortable with him after they'd spent a few days together. And Vicrul, to his credit, didn't make any jokes this time around. He simply grabbed his stuff and walked out the door.

Knowing she was safe - or as close as she could be - he, Trudgen, and Kuruk went after the hacker while Cardo, Ushar, and Ap'lek began making arrangements for their inevitable departure.

The Spearhead hacker lived only about thirty miles away from where they'd been in a run down apartment complex that looked like it hadn't seen attention since the 60s. Apparently his employers didn't find him skilled enough to pay him decently. Granted he didn't have high hopes for the man - Timmy Carter, 36, tragically without an alarm system - he was obviously low on the totem pole with the organization and likely he wouldn't know much, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up in the event he knew something.

After doing a quick survey of the building and disabling the two pitiful security cameras Trudgen silently picked the flimsy lock and the three of them were standing in Timmy's dingy living room in seconds, watching him from behind as he typed furiously on his laptop, facing the opposite wall with a large pair of headphones perched on his head.

It was almost _sad_ how easy it was.

They had him off the chair and pinned to the ground in seconds, Kylo's boot pressing against his throat while he flailed uselessly beneath him. For a man nearing middle age he looked like an overgrown teenager with a baby face and a stained Pokemon tee shirt. The fact that he pissed himself the second Kylo's gun was trained on his forehead didn't help add to the maturity image, either.

"Please! I didn't do anything!" He wheezed, pushing desperately against Kylo's boot to no avail. The sheer terror in his eyes was all the proof of guilt they would ever need; it wasn't the expression of an innocent man pleading for his life but rather a **guilty** one who realizes his number was finally up.

Applying a little more pressure as he leaned down, Kylo narrowed his eyes dangerously, "You know if I were as close to suffocating as you seem to be, I would be a little more honest, _Timmy_." Just to drive the point home he stepped down hard enough to elicit a panicked choke.

Behind him Trudgen and Kuruk searched through his computer and files, careful not to disturb anything or leave fingerprints. If this ended the way they intended, a ransacked apartment wouldn't fit the narrative they would leave behind for whoever found the body, no doubt days after they were gone.

"I'll help you out," Kylo murmured, continuing on in a lofty tone as he watched the skin around Timmy's lips turn blue, his eyes bulging from his skull as he fought for breath, "You've been doing some work for an organization I sincerely doubt you know much about. You get a paycheck and don't ask questions? Nod your head if I'm right so far and perhaps I'll let you breathe."

Though the pressure of his foot wouldn't allow for much, the slight jerk of his head could be interpreted as cooperation. Lifting his foot just long enough for the man to gasp in a breath, his foot was back in place in an instant. Ignoring Timmy's continued choked wails for help he rolled his eyes, "Don't be greedy, Timmy. It's not attractive." He chastised in a bored tone, enjoying the moment a little more than he should. Though the low level hacker was pretty far removed it was the closest he'd been to putting his hands on Spearhead in a while and he was going to enjoy every second of it. Within reason, they were under time constraints. "Let's move on to my next question, shall we? One of your recent assignments involved a crime scene in Montana and tracing tech to this area. Don't do yourself the disservice of denying it; it'll hurt **worse** if you do." Just to prove the point he shifted his weight, letting more of it fall on the foot currently crushing the other man's windpipe.

"I found the audit trail from the transfer, we have what we need." Kuruk interrupted, pulling a a flash drive from his pocket and plugging it into Timmy's laptop. Beside him Trudgen continued to sift through the paper records he could find. He had a small stack forming on the desk that Kylo assumed continued something of importance.

Adopting a falsely disappointed expression he gave a withdrawn sigh as he looked back down into Timmy's increasingly purple face, "Oh dear...it appears you've outlived your usefulness." Shrugging, he raised the gun, feigning his absolution that there was nothing more the hacker had to offer them. Pausing just long enough as he waited for the -

"WAIT!"

For someone nearly entirely out of air in his lungs Timmy was surprisingly loud. Desperation so starkly clear in his bulging eyes it was clear he was ready to do exactly what Kylo hoped; reveal secrets his computer _couldn't_ tell them.

Slowly easing his foot away again Kylo glanced at his watch, raising his brows as if genuinely evaluating. "You have exactly 90 seconds to change my mind. I **suggest** you make the most of them." Moving his foot back to rest closer to Timmy's collarbone he made a gesture with his gun, waiting for him to start talking.

Coughing and sputtering Timmy tried unsuccessfully to free himself, mistaking his compliance for a get out of jail free card. When he seemed to realize immediate freedom wasn't part of the deal he settled for raising his hands in surrender again. "You have to believe me," he rasped out, sweat tickling down his forehead as he pleaded, "I don't know much. In my line of work asking questions is never a good idea. The audit trail will tell you everything I did online, but someone dropped off a package at my door yesterday. Never saw who, but the second I opened my door I got a call telling me to go drop it off at the police station. They promised 50 grand. I don't know what was in it, they told me not to look in the package. But...I assume it was about _you_."

While thus far Kylo wasn't exactly impressed with the hacker's intelligence, he wasn't inclined to think he was wrong. Which unfortunately meant that now they would be dealing with law enforcement. The local police weren't a concern, but it wouldn't take long for them to give the information to their higher ups. Even less time for the feds to get involved. After Montana they'd been even more irritatingly persistent than usual. And though it was just a theory, Kylo was fairly certain Spearhead had _more_ than one government official in their back pocket. Now that they had more information about he and the Knights they would turn their considerable resources on them.

Meaning the perfectly ordinary city _she_ called home was about to become a war zone. One he couldn't afford to have her anywhere near. And even if it weren't for her, they still wouldn't have stayed in the area. Spearhead were his targets, not their minions. Facing off with them without actually being close to the source of the preverbal monster's head he aimed to cut off was nothing more than messy distraction that could cost them more than it was worth.

The anger pulsing in his veins must not have been difficult to interpret. Timmy's renewed begging pulled him from his dark thoughts, "It was nothing personal, I swear to God! Look man, you have to understand. I'm drowning here, I couldn't pass up the kind of money they were offering!"

By now Trudgen and Kuruk had finished. They came to stand from him, both their expressions grim. They knew just as well as he did the kind of implications this news had for all of them. Implications they needed to be handling rather than wasting more time with a second rate hack in a shitty apartment.

Nodding to his Knights he stepped back, freeing Timmy from his grip and allowing the two of them pull him to his unsteady feet. He looked between them all with such pitiful hopefulness he almost felt bad about forcing the gun into his hand and twisting it around to press the muzzle of the gun to his forehead, using Timmy's finger to pull the trigger. None of them flinched at the shot, nor the blood and brain matter that spattered against the dingy couch and wall behind them.

Trudgen and Kuruk released him, letting Timmy's now still body collapse to the ground, eyes still wide open in shock. "I left the forged permit for the gun with his files." Trudgen commented, glancing down at Timmy before looking back at Kylo with a pinch between his brows, "I take it we need to tell the others to speed up our departure plans?"

Nodding grimly, Kylo nodded towards the door, "We're leaving today."   
  
  


************************   
  
  


When he said 'we', Kylo had meant it.

There was no way around it. He knew she was going to be furious with him, especially after the night before when he'd agreed to trust her and not go after Finn immediately, but he couldn't take chances. In this case forgiveness would have to suffice in place of **permission**.

It wasn't lost on him, the unfairness of it all. He had promised her if she cooperated he would allow her to keep living her normal life. The kidnapping threat hadn't been one he thought he would ever need to act on. She was intelligent, she wasn't going to endanger her freedom or loved ones on the off chance he was bluffing. Not to mention; they both knew she had no actual desire to escape. He'd merely thought it wise to remind her that if she ever did something rash there would have to be consequences.

 _This_ had never been his intent.

Nonetheless, they were out of options and out of time to argue about it. If things had been less dire maybe they could have afforded a discussion, but as it was he was already fighting every impulse to have Vicrul drive her to the private air strip where the jet was waiting. He wasn't naive enough to think that a conversation would have changed anything. She would have insisted on staying. The safety of her family and friends would have been her priority; her distrust of his life would have spurred her into defiance and argument. And granted he was happy to give her the arguments, but **only** once he knew she was safe.

His decision was only reaffirmed when he got the call from Ushar to check the breaking news for a local TV station that was quickly gaining traction. Pausing in his task of packing her bag - only the basics, he would make sure she had everything she needed once they were settled - he felt his eyes widen at the grainy footage of a reporter standing several yards away from a traffic jam. A few small wrecks and lines of stopped cars. And the flaming fireball of what used to be a sedan.

Kylo had exactly eight seconds of pure, unfiltered panic before his phone buzzed again. This time from Vicrul, a one word text that proved to be his savior;

 _Safe_.

If he'd had any doubts that leaving so abruptly wasn't the right call, they'd evaporated. While she was safe, she'd been in danger. Directly this time. Combined with the news from Ushar that Agent West had been snooping around her again, there was no denying the carefully hidden world he'd tried to create was coming apart at the seams. There was no choice, not without risking her safety. And that was an area in which he was completely unwilling to compromise.

_Bring her home now. We're leaving as soon as you get here. Keep her distracted._

After pressing 'send' he finished packing her bag and resumed making their final arrangements to leave the country within the hour. The safe house in Mongolia would be their new home for the foreseeable future. The remote mountain location was so far off the grid it was virtually undetectable. Inescapable for her. And of course there was the added benefit of the lack of an extradition treaty.

It wasn't long after he'd finished packing her bags and checking in with the other Knights that he heard the sound of the garage door opening. Sighing, he brushed his fingers along the outline of the syringe in his pocket, knowing she was more than likely going to hate him for what he was about to do. All the progress he'd made in getting her to drop her walls could easily be lost. It was a risk he'd already accepted in favor of keeping her alive, but he _dreaded_ the moment when this would catch up with him.

When he returned to the kitchen he found her standing there, confused and tense. The few details that he'd received so far about the attack on the highway easily explained why she would be shaken. While he'd exposed her to some of his world, the majority of it had been in word only. Not first hand experience. At least not outside of what she'd experienced at his hand. And while he may have unsettled her, he never had any intention of doing lasting harm. The same couldn't be said for the people coming after them.

"Angel?" he called out, warmed when she turned towards him, relief immediately flooding her features. Though he often forced her to admit she wasn't nearly as opposed to him as she pretended to be, moments when she was willingly vulnerable with him were few and far between.

The moment she came to him, arms wrapping tightly around him, he felt something he hadn't experienced in a very long time; guilt.

"I'm really glad to see you." she mumbled softly, the familiar scent of her shampoo and perfume enveloping his senses. The usual wave of calm he felt only in her presence washing over him. He'd known she was safe, but the relief of actually feeling her steady breath and warm skin did considerably more than a text message could ever hope to.

"Me too." he breathed, softly caressing her back, and feeling the weight of the syringe in his pocket a little more with each passing moment. It was impossible not to think back to the night he'd met her when he'd come with the singular goal of obtaining Poe Dameron's whereabouts and within the span of a few hours found himself on a course that had led to this all consuming obsession that was now the epitome of his universe. And how, just like that night, the drugs were a kindness. An alternative to much more **brutal** fate.

Pulling back just enough he slipped a hand away from her to pull the syringe out, deftly stabbing it into the soft flesh of her neck before she could register what was happening. He watched as first confusion, then alarm, and then perhaps most painfully _betrayal_ flashed in her hazy eyes, "Why?" The question seemed to be her last burst of strength before she swayed on her feet, collapsing into his waiting arms.

Swallowing back his mounting guilt he lifted her up into his arms as the back door opened. Vicrul walked in, looking more somber than he'd seen him in a while. He watched with an uneasy expression as Kylo adjusted his grip, "I didn't have a choice." At least not one that he was willing to make any differently. "Rest, baby." he murmured, kissing her forehead as she drifted into a forced sleep. With the dose he'd given her he was confident she would sleep through the travel to the safe house. Not that he resistance would have changed his plans, but he didn't relish the idea of dragging her kicking and screaming from one place to another.

"Get her bag. Let's go." Kylo ordered shortly, defenses snapping firmly back into place. The moments of vulnerability he still allowed himself were reserved for her and his memories of his son; in all other aspects of his life he strived to remain unchanged. His world wasn't kind to those that chose to drop their guard.

He could tell Vicrul wanted to say something more but he strode past him, sliding sideways through the back door and carrying her to the waiting SUV in the garage. With only minor difficulty he managed to open the back door and set her down on the seat. Reaching to the lever that controlled the seat he reclined it enough that she could lay back without a strain on her neck and shoulders. After buckling her seatbelt he paused long enough to lean in and press his lips against her cheek, "I'm sorry, angel. But I promise you everything will be fine."

In the end he would ensure not only her safety, but that those who threatened it would become nothing more than a vaguely unpleasant memory.

Shutting her door he climbed into the passenger's seat as Vicrul slid behind the wheel after having stowed her bag in the back. He started the car and backed out of the driveway in record time. Glancing to the side Kylo noted the tightness of his grip on the wheel; his knuckles nearly white with pressure. "Ap'lek texted before we left, we're wheels up the second we get to the airstrip."

Though the message was concise as ever, there was an edge to his voice. From one of the others he might not have thought much of it, but Vicrul so seldom took anything seriously it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth that he seemed to take issue with his plans.

"Whatever it is, you might as well say it now. We're all about to be stuck together at 30,000 feet, if I need to kick your ass I'd rather do it on the _ground_." Kylo said dryly, gaze pointedly fixed on the road head of them - and keeping an eye peeled for any other potential threats like the one Vicrul had just taken care of - but he watched him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Though Vicrul was careful in keeping his eyes forward as welt was clear he'd hit the nail on the head, "This is fucked up, Ren. She protected you earlier with West. Lied right to his face and even after almost getting shot she was worried about _you_. You're punishing her for doing exactly what you told her to do."

A surge of anger flooded his veins. Admittedly he knew Vicrul was right; she _hadn't_ done anything wrong. In fact she'd done more than he would have ever had any right to expect. And justified or not he was going back on his word. But he wasn't punishing her, he was trying to keep her alive. And the last thing he needed in the heat of the moment was Vicrul's commentary. Her safety had to come before anything else.

"So you would prefer I leave her in that pitifully unguarded house, just waiting to become Spearhead's next target?" Kylo asked quietly, fists clenching at his sides as he reminded himself that dislocating his jaw would more than likely just get all three of them killed.

He made a mental note to revisit the topic during their next training session.

Sighing as he changed lanes and continued to speed as inconspicuously as possible towards the private airstrip, Vicrul tossed him a pleading look, "You know that's not what I meant." He took a hand away from the wheel to run through his dark bronze hair, the frustration evident in his cerulean gaze as he struggled to find the right words, "Couldn't you have just told her what was going on and asked her to come? I know she'd stubborn as fuck but she isn't suicidal."

"Were the bullets aimed at your head not proof enough we didn't have time to discuss this?" He fired back dryly, feeling a spark of irritation at the way Vicrul spoke of her as if he _knew_ her. Yes they'd spent a few days together during the Montana job, but it hardly gave him the right to council him on how to handle her safety. "Not that I owe you the explanation but she never would have agreed quickly. She would insist we try and involve the police, or that her loved ones needed to be protected, or any number of other excuses she could dream up. I won't risk her life in favor of not _offending_ her." He was fully aware of the storm he'd face when she woke up, but he'd gladly deal with it. It was far preferable to seeing one of the only people he gave a damn about in the world carted off in a body bag.

He'd already taken steps to assign discreet security detail to her loved ones. He sincerely doubted they were in any danger, but on the off chance they became targets by association he had it covered. At the very least he hoped that would assure her that he was trying to honor her wishes as much as he could.

Vicrul's jaw clenched, and Kylo suspected he was still far from being in agreement with his course of action, but after several long moments he finally gave a stiff nod, "I get it. It's just messed up."

On that there was no disagreement. Anything to do with Spearhead was 'messed up', but there was nothing to be done about it now other than continue to work to eliminate them.

And keep an eye on the man sitting next to him, who he now suspected was even more conflicted than he let on.   
  
  


************************   
  
  


Consciousness evaded you for what felt like days.

At first only a confusing array of sounds managed to penetrate through the haze fogging your mind; low voices, the sound of rushing air, doors opening. Your heavy eyelids refused to part for what felt like a lifetime, leaving you to guess at the outside world in your few lucid moments.

That floating, disconnected feeling consumed you. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn't think. Couldn't remember. You'd been swallowed by the void around you and clawing your way out wasn't something you could even fathom when you couldn't manage to cling to consciousness for more than a few seconds.

Though eventually you began to feel the fog clearing; you began hearing more consistent noise. You still couldn't manage to open your eyes but you felt smooth upholstery against your skin. The feeling of being lifted. Not an experience you were eager to repeat. Even with your eyes closed the motion turned your stomach with nausea. The softness of a pillow underneath you. Lips against your forehead, Kylo's voice coming through distantly as if at the end of a tunnel, "Ssshh," you felt his cool hand on your overly-warm skin, soothing you at the weak moan of discomfort that escaped your lips, "go back to sleep, angel. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Whether your body decided to listen to him or you were simply too spent to do otherwise you fell into the abyss once again, the blackness wrapping around you like a blanket.   
  
  


********************   
  
  


When you finally managed to open your eyes it felt like days had passed. Your head felt heavy, like it had been stuffed with cotton. Your limbs were stiff with misuse. A remaining feeling of dizziness and nausea remained, but it at least wasn't quite as intense as it had been before.

Along with the return to the land of the living came the flood of memories, reaffirming your vague sense of alarm that something was wrong. The car chase, helping Vicrul take out the driver, coming home, seeing your suitcase by the door, hearing Kylo's voice...the prick of the needle in your neck before you'd collapsed. After all of the times he'd threatened to steal you away if you didn't cooperate it shouldn't have been a shock, but you'd thought you were on at least somewhat **stable** ground with one another.

Especially after you lied to an FBI agent to protect him and kept your word not to warn Finn of the lethal danger he was facing.

As if summoned by your outrage, you blinked a few times when you felt his finger trace along your cheek. The world came back into blurry focus, revealing a darkened, unfamiliar bedroom. The majority of the walls appeared to be glass, overlooking a dense forest, though you could distantly see the glimmer of water beyond them even from where you were laying. Where there were solid walls they appeared to be paneled with distressed grey-ash brown wood. Aside from a few dressers and nightstands and the mounted lamps above the headboard of the bed, the room seemed minimalist in decoration.

Kylo sat down next to you on the bed, sinking into the white down comforter you were covered with. His face materialized more quickly as your eyes adjusted. He was watching you with a mixture of concern and weariness. He held up a small white pill and a bottle of water when he seemed confident you were actually awake this time, "To help with the side effects."

Despite actually wanting something that would get rid of the pounding headache and remaining nausea you rolled your eyes as you struggled to pull yourself into a sitting position, "Right, because obviously that's what I want from you. _More_ drugs." The world spun uncomfortably for several long moments before it finally righted itself. You scooted back against the pillows, trying to create at least a few inches of distance from him. Apart from being furious at his betrayal, his proximity had your heart thundering in your chest with panic.

Reality was beginning to take root. Not only did you not recognize the room you were in, you had _no_ idea where you were. How long you'd been out cold. Or what Kylo intended on doing with you now that he'd made good on his promise.

You could feel your breaths coming shorter, a tightness building in your chest as you looked around the room again. The unidentifiable forest out the windows. For all you knew you could be a few hours away from home; you could be in a different **country**. This wasn't some planned trip, Kylo had effectively stolen you from your life. You thought of your parents, your family, your friends, work. How long would it be before someone realized you'd fallen off the grid? How long had it been since you'd contacted anyone? Judging from outside it looked like it was either a gloomy early evening or early in the morning. Meaning either way at least several hours to nearly a day had passed.

The faint churning of your stomach suddenly turned to a full blown twist of your insides. The overwhelming realization of had happened felt like it was _suffocating_ you. Ignoring Kylo when his brows pinched at what you were sure was the paling of your skin you rolled quickly off the bed and out from underneath the covers and bolted for the door you were abundantly grateful turned out to be the bathroom. You only just barely made it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach.

Much to your irritation and embarrassment, Kylo was only steps behind you, gathering your hair away from your face and holding it on top of your head.

The dry heaves that wracked your body - even after you were certain there was nothing left in your body to purge - were painful enough to keep you from demanding he leave you alone. It was all you could do to simply remain upright, your hands clutching the porcelain in front of you so tightly your fingers cramped.

When it was finally over you reluctantly let Kylo help you back to your feet, his arm remaining around you as you moved towards the sink to wash your mouth out. Though oddly enough you were greeted with the sight of your cosmetic bag perched beside the basin.

You weren't sure whether to be touched he'd been so meticulous in packing your things, or disturbed that he once again seemed to have information and knowledge about your life and your home you'd never given him.

Given the circumstances you decided to simply be grateful for a toothbrush for the time being. While Kylo released you when you shrugged out of his hold to dig through your bag and go through the motions of brushing your teeth and taking advantage of the mouthwash he'd also thought to bring, he didn't move more than a few inches away. He watched you with that same wrinkle between his brow as if he expected you to drop at any moment.

Hell. given you didn't have any idea what he'd injected you with maybe that was a possibility.

When your mouth finally felt clean again you packed your things back in your bag, pausing when you realized for the first time he must have brought his earlier offering with him; the pill and water sat on the counter as well. Noticing you looking at them you watched Kylo gesture towards them in the mirror, "It will alleviate the symptoms, I promise."

The scoff that worked its way from your lips was forge in to even you; filled with **resentment** and mirth. Rounding on him you narrowed your eyes, wishing you weren't so tempted by the idea of feeling better. "You promise? Like you promised that you _wouldn't_ do this if I cooperated? Your word doesn't mean shit to me anymore, Kylo."

"Be as angry with me as you need to be, but you're not hurting anyone but yourself by not taking that. It's just anti nausea medication. I'm happy to swallow that one and bring you another." Kylo replied calmly. Smoothly. Only the slight tightening of his lips revealing his emotions. Surely he had to have been expecting you to be furious with him? The question was - did your anger actually mean anything to him?

But, considering your churning stomach and remaining dizziness, you could at least concede to his point. Rolling your eyes you turned and grabbed the pill, popping it in your mouth and swallowing several sips of water before screwing the cap back on. "Should I position myself away from sharp edges? I'd hate to crash into one when I pass out again."

Clearly not appreciating your sarcasm, Kylo simply reached out and tapped the side of your water bottle, "You should drink the rest of that, you're probably dehydrated." He stepped around you after that and slipped out the door without another word.

Had you been thinking more rationally you might have taken it as opportunity to collect your thoughts. Perhaps come up with some sort of plan, or let some of your shock and anger wear off, but you found yourself seeing **red** as his casual dismissal of what was happening here.

Stalking after him, your body acted almost of its own volition. Using the only thing you had at your disposal - the water bottle - you threw it with as much strength as you could muster, watching in grim satisfaction as the half-full bottle collided with the back of his head before falling to the hardwood floors with a dull thud. "Fuck you." you snarled, annunciating each word venomously.

You watched his shoulders tense in anger. You could feel his fury from where you stood, even before he turned to face you. His expression was one of forced civility; hanging on to control by a thread, "Given the circumstances I'll let that slide. Do not try it again." He bent and retrieved the bottle, setting it down on the dresser next to him rather than handing it back to you.

Probably for the best.

"Or what?" Your challenged, disregarding the voice in the back of your mind whispering it wasn't wise to pick a fight with him. "You'll kidnap me and drag me to parts unknown? Oh _wait_ ," You feigned a look of surprise that quickly faded back into fury, "you already did that. Guess you'll have to come up with a new threat to hold over my head this time."

"I know I broke my word to you. I regret that, but the circumstances are out of our control now. You were in the car with Vicrul when the attack happened. Had you been alone you would be dead right now." There was a note of pleading in his eyes as he explained, though he was clearly still on edge. Asking you to see his point of view. And granted he wasn't wrong, had things been different you easily could have ended up dead, but he was missing the point.

"How do you know I wasn't only in danger **because** I was in the car with Vicrul?" You countered, crossing your arms. You weren't letting him off that easy no matter his logic. "Don't kid yourself, Kylo. The only reason I'm in danger is because you forced your way into my life after targeting Poe. If you'd left me alone none of this would be happening."

You knew it wasn't entirely fair to blame him; you'd been too much of a willing participant in your relationship to simply lay the blame at his doorstep. But in your anger you didn't care. Maybe you were safe, but what about everyone left behind? Would they suffer the consequences? Would you ever get your life back?

"No," he agreed, taking a few calculated steps closer to you, looking down at you with a mixture of knowing, anger, and apology that left your head spinning, "but you **were** given the opportunity yesterday to be rid of me. You could have told West everything and he would have spirited you away then and there. But you didn't. You lied. You _chose_ to protect me. To stay with me. And though I wish things were different, there is a cost to be paid for being connected to my world."

There was little room for you to argue against at least that much; protecting him had been your choice. If any part of you had doubts or wanted to turn back the clock and free yourself of Kylo, that had been the golden opportunity. Kylo was right; West would have helped you then and there. But you didn't even consider it. Not just because the idea of Kylo being locked up or hurt or killed evading capture was _intolerable_...but because you didn't want a life without him.

But at the same time you'd already paid the price by putting yourself in danger. Lying to your loved ones. Lying to federal agents. Implicating yourself in whatever crimes he and the Knights might commit.

Losing your freedom wasn't supposed to be part of the deal.

You stepped back as he continued to advance on you, holding out a hand to stop him, "Just because I didn't want to see you end up in prison or killed in some standoff with the FBI does _not_ mean I gave you free reign to drug me and take me away from my life! You've been using that as a threat for weeks, Kylo. It wasn't the 'cost of being with you'; you just made a decision for both of us. You didn't even bother trying to discuss it with me. I thought this was supposed to be some form of a relationship. Turns out I'm just your prisoner you were fooling into thinking otherwise." By the time you finished you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. It should have been a relief to fight back, but instead you found yourself only **angrier** than you'd been before.

Kylo had been the one to tell you he wanted to make things work. That his infatuation had nothing to do with his revenge against Poe. That he cared. And maybe he did, but clearly not enough to include you in life altering decisions. It was a call back to the night he'd found out about Finn's potential involvement with the Amsterdam attack; whatever progress you'd made seemed to fly out the window any time a situation arose that went deeper than what to have for dinner.

"I don't regret doing what needs to be done to keep you alive. I wish there'd been more time to prepare you, but we weren't given that luxury. Once you've had the time to think this through I think you'll realize it's not as bad as you're making it out to be." While he did halt his progress he made no move to step away, either. You wondered if he wasn't subtly blocking the open door behind him. Not that you liked your odds of escape much at this point; the view out the windows confirmed you were probably in the middle of nowhere.

"If you expect me to sit back and play good little captive you're about to be disappointed. You might get to control where I go, but I'm _done_ cooperating." He'd lost his biggest threat against you by taking you away. Granted he could revert back to threatening the safety of your loved ones but at least now he was - you assumed - far away from them.

But, rather than get angry, his lips twitched slightly. A pitying look in his eyes as he stepped forward again, ignoring your attempt to hold him back. In a matter of seconds you felt the wall against your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You wished his proximity didn't still have an affect on you. Being as angry at him as you were you didn't appreciate your body's automatic response to him. "I no longer **need** your cooperation, angel. I would much rather you accept reality and adjust, but if you need to scream and rage you're more than welcome to. Because if you really do believe yourself nothing more than my _prisoner_ ," One hand moved away from the wall so he could grab your chin with two long fingers, "then I should have no qualms about keeping you locked up. And that would make things so much easier for you, wouldn't it? Then you could convince yourself you're not a willing participant in all this. You can be free of the guilt of knowing that leaving that mundane little life behind doesn't bother you nearly as much as you _wish_ it did."

Whether there was any truth to what he said became completely irrelevant in that moment. That anger and fear you felt so little control over finally snapped. Rather than sniping back at him you used his grip against him and _spit_ into his smug, egotistical face.

The hand that had been on your chin immediately appeared at your throat, squeezing tightly, though not entirely cutting off your air supply. You could see the fury boiling behind his dark amber eyes; a look you weren't sure where it would have taken him had it not been for Vicrul's voice from the door.

"Kylo."

Glancing around Kylo you found both Vicrul and Trudgen standing in the doorway. Trudgen, as usual, kept the emotion from his expression, but Vicrul looked uneasy. Angry, even. Maybe it was selfish, or simply survival instincts taking over, but you knew without a doubt he was your way out of this.

"You're late for a training session." Trudgen pointed out quietly before Kylo could speak. His eyes never drifted from yours, but you could feel the tension in his grip as he weighed his options. "Vicrul and Ap'lek just finished and offered to show her around the house."

You weren't sure if Trudgen was interfering on your behalf or Kylo's - maybe both? - but you'd never been more grateful for his presence. You'd noticed before that Kylo seemed to respond best to him of all the Knights. Even now when he was furious and clearly in no mood to surrender, after a few long moments you felt him relax slightly.

Taking a breath Kylo finally nodded stiffly. Looking down at you there was dark promise in his eyes you weren't sure you'd seen since the night you met him. "We're not finished here." Releasing you he finally turned back to his Knights, wiping the saliva from his face before joining them at the door. You watched his meaningful look to Vicrul...only reaffirming you suspicion that he wasn't approving of what Kylo had done and may have been your only chance of escape.

And you would escape. If Kylo thought you were just going to bend to his will that easily he was sorely mistaken.

When Kylo and Trudgen finally disappeared down the hall Vicrul watched them go with a sigh. Turning to you he gestured for you to join him, "Come on."  
  
  


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For Trudgen to call the massive property you found yourself occupying a 'house' had been hilariously generous. 

After Ap'lek joined you - you realized it was the first time you'd even met him, apparently his guarding duties were usually tech related so he hadn't been around your house much - he and Vicrul took you on a tour of the safe house.

The second floor where Kylo had brought you housed a number of other bedrooms and bathrooms, in addition to a den/home theater, kitchen, and an expansive deck that held some outdoor furniture and a hot tub that looked big enough to swim in. Ap'lek explained that all the Knights stayed on the first floor so you and Kylo would have the second floor to yourselves. As if that was a comfort at the moment. But Ap'lek didn't seem to notice your preoccupation. You couldn't help but notice he was younger than all the other Knights appeared to be. Less confident in his role, but you could sense his desire to prove himself from a mile away.

Meaning he would the least likely to help you. Not if it meant going against Kylo.

As they showed you the first floor - an admittedly stunning lodge with tons of windows that exposed the gorgeous views of the forest and nearby lake - you were trying to formulate a plan. No matter how much you might have wanted to take action immediately, you had just arrived and Kylo was clearly on high alert. You would need to wait until he dropped his guard at least somewhat before trying anything. And you would also have to find a way to convince Vicrul to help you, effectively betraying his boss and friend.

You felt guilty for your plans to use him, but your hope was that if everything turned out the way you envisioned he would be able to escape blame.

When the tour concluded in the massive living room, Ap'lek politely excused himself to return to his work. Apparently he was something of an inventor and he had a workshop in the basement that he was working on getting ready for him to resume activity. Before he left he gave your shoulder a squeeze, his dark eyes reassuring, "It won't be so bad. We've had to pack up and leave more than once. You adjust."

Though you sincerely doubted it would be that easy, you gave him a weak smile. He was just trying to help, there was no sense in being resentful of him.

The moment Ap'lek disappeared in the direction of the door to the basement accessed through the kitchen you turned back to Vicrul, knowing you needed to take advantage of the moment alone. You weren't sure how long Kylo and the other Knights would be training, but you couldn't afford to waste an opportunity that might not come again. Judging by the look Kylo had given Vicrul you weren't sure he'd allow much alone time in the future.

"Can we go for a walk? Outside? Not far, I just need to clear my head." Neither Vicrul nor Ap'lek had gone into any detail about security, but you had no doubts there had to be some in place. And you figured it was likely to be less guarded outside. If there were cameras set up it seemed like a safer bet to assume you stood less chance of being overheard.

At first it looked as though Vicrul was going to turn you down, but you relied on your already overactive emotions to put a little extra pleading in your expression. Though you suspected he could see your less than angelic intent he did finally concede, "Fine. But go change first. You'll freeze in a dress."

Until he'd mentioned it, it hadn't even occurred to you that you were still wearing the same clothes you'd picked to meet Lucas at the cafe. It already felt like a lifetime had passed.

With a nod you quickly made your way back upstairs, hoping Kylo had done a decent job of packing your clothes.  
  
  


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Much to your irritation and unease, not only had Kylo packed for the weather and managed to select only your favorite pieces, but one of the closets in the bedroom you'd woken up in was fully stocked with clothes and shoes; all your exact sizes. Somehow he'd managed to find the time - or had someone else - to bring you a full wardrobe. Further reinforcing that he intended on keeping you there for an extended period of time.

Trying to tuck that worry away for a more convenient time you changed into a pair of dark wash jeans, a black cable knit sweater and one of the puffy winter jackets he'd thought to get you. After slipping on a pair of warm winter boots you hurried back downstairs to find Vicrul waiting for you by back door.

You followed him outside, grateful the moment the blast of freezing air washed over you that you'd taken his advice and changed. Wherever he'd brought you - which had still yet to be disclosed to you - was a significant drop in temperature from what you were used to.

There were several yards in all directions of the house that were cleared, the remaining grass well kept. Especially for a place that hadn't been occupied previously. You could hear distant grunts and heavy footfalls from the other side of the house, according to Ap'lek and Vicrul that was where the Knights would be doing most of their training and sparring.

Following Vicrul, he led you towards the edge of the trees and you quickly realized there was a small path carved out and marked with red markers on the trees. The overcast light overhead dimmed significantly as you walked further in, casting you both in shadows, but Vicrul seemed confident in his navigation.

Unsure of how far he intended on going, when you were reasonably sure you'd gone far enough to be out sight of the house and hopefully any security technology, you grabbed Vicrul's arm and pulled him to a stop. He turned slowly to face you, looking unsurprised. You assumed he'd been waiting for this since you asked him to take a walk.

"Did you know what he was going to do?" Maybe playing the guilt card was a little on the low side, but you were desperate enough to try. And you were hurt that he'd essentially hand delivered you to Kylo. You remembered the way he'd hesitated before getting out of the car. Telling you everything would be fine.

The unmistakable look of guilt that crossed his features told you everything you needed to know. "I didn't know it would play out like that. And for what it's worth I told him what he was doing was fucked up."

You hadn't expected that - it surprised you that he was so willing to openly speak against Kylo, but this wasn't the first time you'd gotten the distinct impression of all the Knights he was the least 'compliant' - but it was exactly what you needed to hear to give you the confidence to keep pushing and be reasonably sure he wouldn't just run to Kylo and tell him you were plotting to escape.

With your hand still on his arm, you mustered every persuasive bone in your body, "If that's true, then help me." You could see him about to shut down or make an excuse. You placed your other hand on his arm, squeezing to keep his attention. You would atone for the manipulation later. "Please. You're the only one who can help me. You just said it yourself you don't think he did the right thing, right? So do something about it. Help me get home."

You could see the internal debate taking place behind his gaze, the wheels turning to make a decision. On the one hand, you both knew Kylo wouldn't actually hurt you. It was why you didn't play the fear card. Angry as you at him for what he'd done, and scared of simply not knowing where you were or if you would ever see your loves ones again, there wasn't a single part of you that believed you were in danger.

"Vicrul please, you know you can trust me. I protected him, protected all of you when West came to find me. I just don't want to be locked up here while people I care about might be paying for my choices." The anger you'd thought it about the more it had begun to come together in your mind. With the FBI upping their search for Kylo you doubted he would be able to safely follow you. Escaping now would force some distance so you could figure out what your next move was. Maybe it was just as much of a risk to go back alone, but you just couldn't be complacent in what Kylo was doing. Feelings for him or not.

He looked from your expression to your grip for several long seconds, his eyes narrowing. The wait was agonizing, but you'd made your case. There wasn't anything else you could think to draw on that might change his mind if he decided not to help you.

You began to fear that his rejection was coming when he finally sighed, "Fuck." He looked up at the trees above you, eyes closed. When he sought your gaze out again you could see the dread; but it was also mixed with absolution. "We can try. Long as you realize we're both fucking dead if this doesn't work."   
  
  


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**(** a/n **)**

uh oh... 0___o

prepare yourselves for smutty smut next chapter. and more plotting with Vicrul. and angst. drama. just get ready ok.

thank you so much for reading and all your support! please comment/vote, I adore hearing from you all!

until next time <3


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